


Time's Cost

by Tatedeco



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce tries though, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is a social worker, Gen, How is this tag not a thing yet?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Me campaigning for social worker Dick, Minor mention of romantic relationships, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tatedeco/pseuds/Tatedeco
Summary: Bruce is depressed on the anniversary of his parents' death. He finds a time machine during a mission. After a fight with Dick, Bruce uses the time machine to prevent his parents' deaths. But what happens to his adopted family in a world where Bruce never became Batman? Are they really better off without him?
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & his parents, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson
Comments: 211
Kudos: 408





	1. Bruce being Bruce

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and I somehow managed to do a multi-chapter fic again. I wanted to write the bigger Batfam for a change. And I'm a sucker for these time travel/ alternate dimensions plots. Main-focus will be on Bruce, Dick and Damian. But other members of the fam will have relatively prominent roles like Babs, Jason and Steph (I've loved her ever since I've read her Batgirl run). The continuity is a mishmash of stuff I like. Things from continuity will be referenced in the story if they are relevant. There isn't much of Kate, Duke and Cass though. I didn't manage to fit them in and I can't do them justice (yet). I'm currently reading some of their runs though and enjoying it.
> 
> Mantles of the characters:
> 
> Bruce - Batman
> 
> Dick - Nightwing
> 
> Jason - Red Hood
> 
> Tim - Red Robin
> 
> Damian - Robin
> 
> Barbara - Oracle
> 
> Steph - Spoiler (she was Batgirl and Robin though in this continuity, she just decided to go back to Spoiler)
> 
> Cass - Batgirl (she became Black Bat while Steph was Batgirl, but she went back to Batgirl because she missed the mantle and Steph was happy to give it back to her; no hard feelings)
> 
> Duke - Signal
> 
> Kate - Batwoman

Batman already regretted his decision to call the family together. Their chatter and bickering was driving him to madness. But this night was big enough to call upon everyone. Even Oracle was in the Cave to monitor the mission from the Batcomputer.

Batman had measured an immense energy surge near the west-side of Gotham. He couldn’t pinpoint a possible reason which made this affair so unpredictable. Batman wanted to have everyone on hand in case that the threat turned out to be as great as expected. Batman was talking about meta-level here – because metas were officially the worst - with the exception of Signal of course.

Too bad that his family wasn’t very cooperative.

Robin and Red Robin were glaring at each other. Red Hood had already made a dozen dead jokes. Spoiler tried to get Batgirl to take a selfie with her. Only Alfred, Batwoman and Signal were being professional here.

“Concentration”, Batman said, “This is serious.”

“Very serious”, Spoiler added.

Batman glared at her. Spoiler recoiled and lifted her hands in defense.

“Don’t worry, B”, Nightwing said, “We’re taking this seriously. Everything will go fine.”

“But we always have to be prepared for-“

“Things to go sideways I know”, Nightwing added, “We all do. But first-“

Nightwing’s smile was unnerving. Batman was smelling something bad on the way.

“-Let’s take a family photo. We’re almost never together.”

“You are such a sap, Dickhead”, Hood said.

“I refuse to take part in this idiocy”, Damian crossed his arms.

But Dick looked at Damian with mock-seriousness: “It’s a team-building exercise. Team-building exercises are very important, Dami. You do them with the Teen Titans, don’t you?”

“Tt”, Damian seemed to think, “In that case, I agree with Grayson. I see the merits of this _exercise_.”

“Then, come on, team”, Nightwing said, “Let’s get into position.”

“Nightwing”, Batman’s voice was a warning.

“It’ll only take two minutes if you get a move on, B. The energy surge happened almost 24 hours ago. It can wait a bit more”, Dick pointed next to himself, “You’ll get to stand in the center, too.”

Bruce sighed but he knew that arguing with Nightwing would take more time than relenting. So, he stood up and took center position.

“Wait, Dickhead? Who’s taking the damn photo?”, Red Hood asked, “I should be dead so I-“

“No”, Batwoman said, “I’m taking it.”

“But you’re part of the family, Kate”, Nightwing protested.

“I’m more of a lone wolf”, Batwoman smiled and took Red Robin’s camera from one of the shelves, “Sorry, Grayson.”

“All right”, Nightwing didn’t seem happy about it, “But everyone takes their masks off. Even you, Jason.”

Batman didn’t smile when Batwoman took the photo. He stayed neutral, impatiently counting the seconds they were losing in his head. Nightwing must be planning something with the photo. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so insistent.

“Happy now?”

“Very”, Nightwing moved to take a look at the camera.

But he stopped when Batman cleared his throat.

“Fine, I’m with you now, B”, he said.

Batwoman put the camera back on the shelf.

“We’re forming teams to cover the wide area. Signal is with Batwoman. Batgirl is with Spoiler. Red Robin is with Red Hood. And I’ll be with Nightwing and Robin. Oracle coordinates. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads. Batman nodded.

*

Batman, Nightwing and Robin were crouched on a side building to the large factory. It looked completely abandoned. Batman didn’t trust this.

“You sure, you’re alright, B?”, Nightwing asked.

Batman ignored him. He didn’t have time for sentimentality. The mission came first.

“I know what day it is.”

“The day is not relevant right now”, Batman’s – Bruce’s – chest went cold when he remembered which day it indeed was.

Over 30 years ago almost at this exact time, his parents had been shot in front of him. Bruce had been thinking about them a lot lately – more than usual around this time. It had struck him like a particularly unpleasant punch. Bruce was 43 now. His parents had both been 42 when they died. Bruce had officially lived longer than they did. It was unfair. Cruel. And it was even worse that his grief was still as powerful as it had been thirty years ago. Bruce had never learned how to move on. And he would never. He would be damned to let this traumatic moment define him until the day he died.

“B?”, the lenses of Nightwing’s mask narrowed in concern, “Are you sure you are ready to do this? You can sit it out if you want to-“

“I’m Batman. I’m not sitting any mission out.”

“The rest of the family could easily-“

“Don’t argue with me, Nightwing”, Batman glared at him.

“I agree with Nightwing, Father”, Robin said, “You aren’t in a fighter’s mindset at the moment-“

“No, familial connections in the field”, Batman said.

Nightwing put a hand on Robin’s shoulder to consolidate him but Robin shoved off his hand.

“I’m not a child, Nightwing.”

Nightwing sighed, focusing on the building again. He was mumbling something about emotionally constipated Bats. The stakeout continued. Even after an hour nothing moved.

“I can only measure one heat-signature in the building”, Oracle said.

“One guy?”, Hood scoffed, “We can take them.”

“Stay back, Hood”, Batman growled, “Nightwing, Robin and I are going in. The rest of you provides backup. We don’t know if this person could be a meta.”

“Because I love playing second-fiddle to the Bat”, Hood muttered.

Batman grappled to the other side of the building, silently landing on the windowsill. Nightwing and Robin followed. Batman picked the lock. A metal walkway was on the other side of a window.

Batman could see that the factory was empty except for a workbench in the middle. Rock music was blaring through the hall. Batman scrunched up his face. How much he hated this noise. He wondered how anyone could call it music. Batman opened the window with a lockpick.

Like a well-oiled machine, Nightwing went to the left while Robin took the right. They took position behind two pillars.

“Any visual?”, Oracle asked.

“Nothing but a workbench”, Nightwing said, “I can see it from here. There’s a machine lying on top of it. Kind of looks like a phone.”

“The origin of our energy surges?”, Red Robin asked.

“Possibly”, Batman said, “Everyone stay on alert.”

  
“Who do you take us for, old man?”, Hood grumbled, “Amateurs?”

Batman ignored him and opted to go closer to the workbench. The device indeed looked like a phone. Its screen was black. Batman didn’t touch it and instead opted to look at the blueprints.

“What is it, B?”, Nightwing asked.

Batman looked at the title of the blueprints. He shook his head in disbelief. Villains became stranger with every day.

“It’s a time machine or supposed to become one.”

“Really? We got a Doc Brown here”, Nightwing laughed.

“Keep it together, Nightwing”, Batman scolded.

“I’m very serious about this menacing threat.”

The sound of something shattering made Batman turn around. The music suddenly stopped.

Batman came face-to-face with a man in a white overall. It was covered in black smudges and had a white symbol on the front which frankly looked ridiculous. Batman tried to decipher the meaning of the symbol. It was a white clump?

“I think we found our Doc Brown”, Nightwing snickered from behind the pillar, “He’s even got the crazy white hair.”

“What are you doing here, Batman?”, the man said in a whiny voice, “You are too early. I’m not finished yet.”

“We can come back later if you want to”, Nightwing stepped out behind the pillar.

“Really?”, the man looked at him, “That would be very kind.”

Batman said: “Surrender and no one has to be hurt.”

“I’m not sure we can do anything about him actually”, Nightwing said, “I don’t remember ‘attempted time travel’ being a crime.”

Batman groaned in annoyance. But he turned to the table to take the machine and the blueprints. Whoever this man was, he didn’t have good intentions.

“I don’t think so”, _Doc Brown_ said and Bruce heard the click of a gun safety being loosened, “One step more and I’ll shoot the kid.”

Robin scowled when the gun was pointed at him. And Batman froze. Memories ran before his eyes. A dark alley over thirty years ago. A gun glinting in the light of the streetlamps. Dangerously like a predator. Bruce had been frozen in fear. Unable to act when the gangster had panicked and shot. He had been frozen then and he was now.

Nightwing noticed Batman’s hesitation. He flung an escrima stick at the man’s hand and threw himself at Robin pulling him to the floor. Bruce could see the bullet. He could hear the villain’s pained groan as his hand broke and he lost the gun. And he could hear Nightwing’s groan as the bullet collided with his chest. But he couldn’t move.

“Get off of me, Nightwing”, Robin shoved his former mentor away.

“Ouch”, Nightwing rubbed his ribs, pulling the bullet out of his armor, “That one hurt more than the bullet. You fine, Robin?”

“I’m fine and I didn’t require saving.”

The villain was standing there with teary eyes cradling his broken hand. Batman fell out of his stasis, handcuffing the now harmless man.

“I would have talked ‘Back to the Future’ with you if you hadn’t tried to kill, Robin”, Nightwing said, “What’s your name by the way? You aren’t worthy of Doc Brown anymore.”

“Do you always talk so much?”, the villain glared at Nightwing.

Nightwing shrugged: “Yes.”

“I’m the Eraser”, the man said, “I’m a scientific genius and none of you would be able to comprehend the work that is lying on this table.”

That explained the weird clumpy symbol on the front of the man’s overall.

 _“You called us all together for that dude?”,_ Hood said over the comms, _“Really B?”_

Batman ignored him. He wouldn’t apologize for his decision. An energy surge could always turn out to be more sinister than expected. They had to be prepared for all possibilities.

“Better safe than sorry”, Batgirl answered – the only reasonable one of his children, except for Signal.

“Eraser?”, Nightwing took the guy off Batman, “I expected something more ‘time-related’. Clockwork or High-Speed or Watch-Man.”

“You fool”, the man growled in frustration, “I only needed to finish a few details and then I would have been able to erase Batman from existence.”

“By doing what exactly?”

“Killing him in his early years, and – after this conversation – the first Robin with him”, Eraser said.

“And I thought we were doing so well”, Nightwing led the Eraser away, speaking into the comm-link, “Hey, anyone wanna call Gordon?”

“Already did”, Red Robin answered.

Batman ignored their chatter looking at the plans. He knew that time travel was possible. Flash had done it after all and heroes like Booster Gold. But Batman had never seen anyone build a time machine from scratch. The plans actually seemed to have a certain validity. Whoever Eraser was, he was a genius – a pathetic one – but still a genius.

Batman turned the plans around studying them from all sides. His hands were still shaky from his sudden flashback. He had spaced out. Something he warned all of his children against.

But he couldn’t help himself. Usually, work helped blending out the anniversary. Not tonight. Something about the thought of having already lived longer than his parents shook him to his core.

The plans in his hands shouldn’t be in the wrong hands. They needed to be confiscated. Studied closely. Anyone with time travel in their hands could create a lot of damage. But there was also so much potential for good. One decision… One small, insignificant decision had changed the whole course of Bruce’s life thirty years ago. If he could go back and change just one detail… One word…

_“Are you cold Bruce? We could take a shortcut.”_

_“_ _~~Yes~~ _ _. NO.”_

Bruce wished he could erase this little word from existence.

“Father?”, Robin stepped next to him, “Your reaction was concerning.”

Bruce pocketed the plans and the prototype: “Just a small lapse in judgement. Nothing to worry about.”

Robin still didn’t seem convinced: “It is the duty of Robin to take care of his Batman.”

 _But you aren’t my Robin, you are Dick’s_ , the bitter thought ran through Bruce’s mind.

He pushed those feelings away, as he always did.

He said: “And it is the duty of Robin to trust the judgement of his Batman.”

“Surely, Father”, Robin nodded.

Nightwing was still making one-sided conversation with the Eraser. But Bruce knew that Nightwing wouldn’t let it drop. He already dreaded the _emotional_ conversation that would follow.

*

The family quickly scattered after the police had arrested the Eraser. Nightwing stayed with Batman and Robin despite Batman’s attempts to get rid of him.

“I’m sure Blüdhaven is waiting for you”, Batman growled.

“Nah”, Nightwing twirled one of his escrima sticks, “The big guns are still recuperating from last night. Detective Svoboda even thanked me for making sure she doesn’t have to work the weekends. I think she likes me now.”

And so, Batman, Robin and Nightwing patrolled the Gotham streets. Robin halted suddenly, noticing a mugging. In Crime Alley of all places. He silently climbed down the fire escape. Batman wanted to follow but Nightwing held him back.

“Let him do it”, Nightwing said, “Show him that you trust him. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

He turned off the comm so that not even Oracle could listen to them.

Batman felt his body going cold. Sirens seemed to go off in his head. _Emotional_ _talk_ alert.

“B. You froze when he pointed the gun at Robin.”

“A moment of miscalculation. Nothing to worry about.”

“We both know it’s not true”, Nightwing said, “Today-“

  
“Is another day.”

“It’s not”, Nightwing said, “How often did you give the ‘we have to be alert every second’-talk to me? And you were right. Because we have to be. I was angry at you then, but I understand now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Take at least a week off until you’ve got everything in order”, Nightwing said, “No one will judge you if you take a few days off. I bet Catwoman would like to see you. Last time I saw her, she was annoyed because you were pushing her away again.”

“Batman doesn’t take days off.”

“Maybe he should. It’s been over thirty years, B. Maybe you need to learn how to move forward.”

“I don’t need to move forward. I’m doing good as it is. The mission is successful.”

“I’m not talking about the mission. I’m talking about you.”

Batman turned away from Nightwing focusing on Robin again. He had restrained the mugger.

“Hey”, Nightwing pulled a card out of his suit, “I asked Black Canary for some names-“

“I don’t need a shrink.”

  
“At least take it”, Nightwing pushed it into Batman’s hand, “You’ve been getting worse, B. And I don’t want to see you slip away.”

Batman crumpled the card in his fist. He felt an irrational anger brewing in his chest. Bruce could hardly pinpoint its origin. Maybe the injustice of his parents dying. Or the way Nightwing assumed that he could tell Bruce what to do. Or his own failures tonight.

“Not everyone just _moves forward_ like you”, Batman said.

“What do you mean?”, Nightwing tensed.

“Always running. Avoiding. Never looking back. When was the last time you ever committed to something?”

“I’m letting that one slide because you are deflecting”, Nightwing jumped over the ledge landing on the opposite building, “And by the way: I’m still here.”

Batman didn’t know what to reply.

Nightwing smiled again: “I’m back on my way to the Haven. Just saying goodbye to Robin first. I expected you to say no. But do me a favor and think about it? And

remember: Robin’s birthday is in a week.”

Batman tensed. He had completely forgotten about it.

Nightwing smirked knowingly: “I know you, B. Years of experience. OG dynamic duo all the way.”

Nightwing said goodbye to Robin with a hug. Batman’s partner was scowling down at the mugger and fought against the hug like a cat. Nightwing chuckled and grappled up the building again. He jumped over the roof, vanishing.

Bruce’s chest still felt far too tight. But Dick had made him feel less like he was drowning. Maybe Bruce should give him more credit for that.

When Bruce reached the Batcave, he took the prototype and the blueprints out of the car.

Bruce intended to lock them away as souvenirs. But he couldn’t get himself to leave the device behind. Just the theoretical thought of a time travel device was fascinating. So, he set the prototype out on his workbench and tinkered with it. The Eraser was indeed a genius, making connections that even Bruce wouldn’t have made. But there were some holes in his logic that a fresh set of eyes could solve. Bruce would try. Just for intellectual curiosity and as a possible future contingency plan of course.

“Are you coming, Father?”, Damian asked, “Pennyworth has provided what he calls a ‘post-patrol snack’.”

“Later”, Bruce was leaned over the machine, utterly fascinated.

This device could provide so many possibilities if Bruce could get it to function. Only hypothetically of course.

*

Damian would never admit it. But he was secretly pleased with this arrangement. Pennyworth had put a lot of thought into it. Putting up decorations – tasteful, not in the wild colors that Grayson preferred. He had baked a cake and cookies, all vegan of course.

Gradually, Damian’s so-called family arrived to congratulate him. Celebrating the anniversary of one’s birth was still juvenile. But Damian appreciated the thought behind it.

Drake, Cain and Pennyworth were the first to congratulate him. Brown arrived together with Gordon. Thomas. Kane. Todd came carrying his usual stench of cigarettes with him.

He threw a hastily wrapped gift into Damian’s lap: “Don’t let it get to your head, Demon.”

Damian unwrapped it to reveal a new motorcycle helmet. It was decorated in red, green and yellow and even had a Robin drawn onto it.

“Dickhead told me that you broke your last one”, Todd said.

Damian bit his lip. Todd acted nonchalant about it, but he had put a lot of thought into Damian’s gift. Listening to what Grayson had told him and remembering Damian’s love of animals.

“It is satisfactory”, Damian said, “I appreciate it.”

Todd smirked knowingly.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes: “Gotta go for a smoke. Strange that Dickhead isn’t here yet.”

“Are you staying for dinner, Master Jason?”, Alfred said.

“Might as well”, Jason shrugged, “I’m too lazy to cook today.”

He left the house.

“Is Jason going soft on us?”, Brown smiled.

“Definitely”, Gordon said.

The door opened.

Damian stood up and walked towards the door. As dignified as usual. And no one commented if he was a bit quicker than usual.

“Where is the birthday boy?”, Grayson was standing in the doorway, his smile disgustingly wide.

“You are late”, Damian huffed, “You may hug me, Grayson.”

“Sorry. The highway was just a nightmare. Even more than usual. You know how crappy Blüdhaven’s streets are”, Grayson crouched and pulled Damian into his arms, “Happy birthday, Dami.”

Grayson didn’t comment when Damian pulled him closer. A privilege that Damian only awarded to his Batman. Any other family member – other than Father, Pennyworth and maybe Cain – would lose their hands if they tried to hug him.

Damian tensed. Thinking about his Batman ultimately led him to the current Batman. Damian hadn’t seen father yet. Not that Damian needed any kind of acknowledgment. His father’s mission would always come first. But it… hurt that Bruce hadn’t even congratulated him.

Grayson ripped him out of his thoughts. He pulled out a package from under his leather jacket. Carefully wrapped in yellow paper.

“I got something for you, Dami”, his voice was lower, as if this moment only belonged to them.

Damian opened the package. It was a framed picture that contained the family picture that Grayson had insisted upon. Now, Damian knew the root cause of Grayson’s sentimentality.

“You already have so many pictures in your room. Of Titus and Alfred. But not of the family”, Grayson said, “You can open the back by the way. I may have left a little message.”

Damian opened the back of the frame. Arcade tokens fell to the floor.

Grayson picked them up: “We can go again if you want to. They apparently have Cheese Vikings 8 now.”

Damian smiled: “I would very much like to, Grayson.”

Next to the tokens, there was also something written on the back of the picture – undeniably Grayson’s squabble:  
  


“Dear Dami,

I know how hard it can be to adapt to a completely new environment. And this family doesn’t always make it easy. But it’s always worth fighting for.

Just know that I’m very proud of how far you’ve come and that I’ll always be there for you. I couldn’t be happier about you carrying on my family’s legacy. The R stands for redemption.

Love you, little brother,

Dick”

Damian blinked back tears. He closed the frame again, looking at Grayson.

“Thank you, Richard”, Damian hugged him.

Grayson positively beamed now. It eluded Damian how someone could get so much joy from giving a present to someone else. But it felt… nice. Damian let go off Grayson after a few seconds.

“Do I smell Alfred’s cake?”, Grayson asked.

Damian nodded. He took Grayson’s hand and led him to the dining table. His father forgotten for just a few moments. Grayson – Damian’s Batman – was proud of him. Grayson loved him. It shouldn’t mean as much to Damian as it did. He was supposed to be completely self-reliant, as the League and mother had taught him. Everyone who depended upon attachments was weak. And the weak deserved to be preyed upon.

But Grayson had shown Damian the opposite. A world of kindness and empathy. Honor. Only weak people pushed down. It took a truly strong person to lift others up. Grayson had shown Damian how to be that person. That kindness didn’t equal weakness. Damian appreciated Grayson for this gift.

The day went on. Damian blew out the candles, ate cake and opened gifts. It should have been a great day – if it wasn’t for the gaping hole at the end of the table.

Grayson noticed as well. At one point he nodded at Alfred and they vanished in the hallway. Damian listened in on them.

“Did you talk to him?”, Grayson asked.

“Multiple times today”, Alfred said, “To no avail. He insists that he is busy and that he will come up later.”

“I can’t believe it. He’s missing his son’s birthday. After I reminded him multiple times.”

“The young master has been reclusive lately ever since the mission with the Eraser. More so than usual.”

“I should talk to him. Give him a piece of-“

“No, Master Dick”, Alfred said, “It would only end up in one of your infamous fights. Think about Master Damian. How heartbroken he would be.”

“He’s already heartbroken because Bruce is too much of a single-minded bastard to get off his damn chair.”

“Language, Master Dick”, Alfred said, “It would be best for Master Damian if you went back to him.”

Grayson sighed: “You are right, Alfred. As always. Why am I even surprised? Just Bruce being Bruce again.”

Damian backed away from the door before Grayson could catch him spying.

“This is not gonna end well”, Brown stood behind him.

Apparently, she had eavesdropped, too.

“Dick is pissed”, she said, “And Bruce is stubborn. Unstoppable force meeting immovable object.”

“I can smell the fight already”, Todd said, “Gonna be a great show. Not sure if I should watch or get out of the way.”

Brown chuckled: “Seriously, Jason? We all know what you’re gonna do. You thrive on conflict. You suck it up like a damn vampire.”

Damian balled his fists. Their squabbling was irritating him.

“I’m hurt, Brown”, Todd grinned, “And I totally won that bet against the Replacement. He thought that I would be the one fucking this happy family reunion up. But never bet against Dickhead’s temper. He’s all smiley but if you piss him off, shit is going down. And people say that I was the angry Robin.“

“Enough of your squabbling”, Damian said, “It is polluting the air with its idiocy.”

Todd almost looked at Damian with pity: “It’s nothing against you, Demon. The old man has always been like that with everyone.”

Grayson and Pennyworth returned into the room. Nothing of Grayson’s anger was visible. He was hiding it behind a wide smile.

“Dami? Did you pick a movie already?”

Damian crossed his arms: “I don’t want a movie. I want father.”

He felt like a stupid child. Asking for his Daddy. But Damian couldn’t help himself. Father must hate him. That was the only explanation for his behavior. Damian must have done something wrong and father was punishing him.

Grayson’s smile fell: “We can go down to the Cave.”

Damian didn’t answer. He just stomped towards the grandfather clock and turned the clock hands. 10:47. The exact minute in which Damian’s grandparents had been killed. The clock swung to the side.

Damian walked down the stairs to the Cave. He vaguely noted the rest of the family following him.

Father was sitting on the Batcomputer examining some kind of schematics on screen. Damian suddenly felt small. But he mustered up all of his considerable courage and stomped towards the computer.

“Father”, he said in his commanding voice, “I demand that you come upstairs.”

“Later”, Father said, “I’m working.”

Damian bit his lip. But he stood his ground: “You are the last one to congratulate me for my birthday. Even Todd has done so. Do you want to make a habit of being later than Todd?”

“Happy birthday, Damian”, Father said without looking at him.

Damian balled his fists. His hands were shaking. Father wasn’t coming. Father wasn’t even looking.

“What have I done wrong, Father?”, Damian asked, “Why do you feel the need to punish me?”

“I’m working, Robin.”

Damian bit his lip. He had to hold back tears. He wouldn’t allow himself the indignity to cry in front of his so-called family.

“Bruce”, it was Grayson’s Batman voice – a warning.

Father didn’t listen. And Damian had enough. He swung around, hurrying up the stairs. Cain reached out towards him. But Damian couldn’t even humor her.

“I don’t want to see any one of you”, Damian said, blinking back tears.

Grayson opened his mouth to protest.

  
“Not even you, Grayson”, Damian said.

The tears fell when Damian left the Cave. He was glad that no one else could see this moment of shame. Damian slammed his door and threw himself on the bed.

He hid his face in his pillow, pretending that he was not crying his eyes out.

*

“Wow, old man. That’s a new low even for you”, Jason said, “You managed to make the Demon cry.”

Jason looked at Dick. His face was turning a dangerous shade of red. Jason swore that Dickhead was shaking out of rage.

Behind Jason, Steph whispered into Tim’s ear: “Grayson temper incoming. Three, two, one-“

“What the hell is wrong with you, Bruce?”, Dick stomped towards Bruce’s chair turning it away from the screen.

Bruce’s face remained expressionless: “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“How about your son running away crying because you ignored his damn birthday?”

“Damian knows how important the mission is.”

“He’s thirteen, Bruce”, Dick crossed his arms.

“He’s not a normal thirteen-year old.”

Dick let out a joyless chuckle: “And that gives you the right to treat him like a soldier?”

“I’m not treating him like a soldier”, Bruce still looked at the screen.

“You are. You aren’t better than Talia.”

Bruce stood up, balling his fists. He used his height to his advantage, towering over Dick. Dick had really poked the bear with this one.

“I’m not like Talia. I would never hurt him.”

“You ignored him”, Dick said, “He’s thirteen. What is he supposed to think?”

“I don’t have to justify my parenting to you”, Bruce sat down on the chair again.

Dick shook his head: “I can’t even call your parenting atrocious because it is non-existent.”

“Damn”, Steph muttered, “Sick burn.”

Bruce slammed his fist on the table-top: “Are you finished? I’m working.”

“What is so damn urgent, Bruce? There aren’t any Arkham outbreaks today”, Dick said.

“Crime never sleeps.”

“Don’t come at me with these cliché Batman-lines. You aren’t fighting crime. You are working on this damn machine. Whatever it is.”

Bruce clicked it away: “It doesn’t concern you.”

Dick leaned forwards, glaring at Bruce: “You know what: I think you are cutting yourself off because you are a damn coward. I have my fair share of anniversaries. They suck. All of them. But life goes on. You allow yourself to mourn and then you keep living.”

“You have no idea.”

Dick chuckled darkly: “ _I_ have no idea? Do you even hear yourself talk, Bruce?”

“Not everyone lives in the moment, Nightwing”, Bruce clenched his hands around the keyboard, “I’m 43. I’m older now than my father was when he died.”

“You can’t change it, Bruce”, Dick’s anger deflated, “You have to learn how to live with it. You could start with the damn clock. 10:47? Really, Bruce?”

Bruce closed his eyes taking a deep breath: “I can’t learn how to live with it. I can’t. Only option is to change it.”

“You can’t change something that has already happened.”

“If I may interject”, Tim said, “We’ve been to multiple parallel dimensions. The Flashes have repeatedly travelled through time. Booster Gold. You get the gist.”

“Are you supporting his crazy idea, Replacement?”, Jason said.

“I’m not. I’m only saying that it would be possible.”

“We know how these stories end”, Barbara said, “There is a cost. Always.”

Bruce shook his head: “Not if you do it smartly.”

Jason frowned: “Damn, old man. You want to pummel the universe into submission just through your damn will?”

“He is Batman after all”, Steph said.

Dick looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. Jason could sympathize with him. The old man had really lost it this time. And frankly, should Jason feel insulted that Bruce had not tried to change his death? He chose to deal with these issues later. Or rather to drown them out during a drinking battle with Artemis and Bizarro. (One that Jason would surely lose.)

Dick stormed up the stairs. Jason flinched when he heard enraged growls and repeated smashes of wood being pummeled into pieces.

“What the hell?”, Jason said, “Did Dickhead just destroy that damn Grandfather Clock? What happened to our Golden Boy?”

“Nightwing”, Bruce’s voice was a warning.

“Fuck you, Bruce”, enraged steps and the slamming of the front door followed.

Jason regretted that he hadn’t gotten popcorn. Golden Boy using Jason’s signature line? Too much entertainment for a lifetime.

“GET OUT”, Bruce glared at them, “ALL OF YOU.”

Jason shrugged. Now, that the show was over, he would gladly leave. No one could accuse their family get-togethers of not being entertaining. He walked up the stairs. Barbara and Alfred used the elevator.

Dickhead had indeed smashed the Grandfather Clock.

“Power move”, Steph said.

“Anyone want to deal with the Demon?”, Tim asked.

“It was a nice get-together”, Jason said, “But I’m out. No way I’m getting close to the Demon.”

*

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had completely screwed-up today. Damian was heartbroken. And Dick was hurt in a different way but expressed it with anger. Bruce had meant to go up to congratulate Damian. He really had. But since the anniversary, time had slipped away for Bruce. Going too slow and too quick at the same time.

Bruce had always masked his sorrow with anger. Anger had fueled him through the worst of times. But now, Bruce was just tired. The realization had hit him out of nowhere. A punch he hadn’t expected. Bruce was older now, than his parents had ever become. And he still hadn’t dealt with their deaths. Something that had happened over thirty years ago. And Bruce never would. He wasn’t like Dick. There was something fundamentally missing within Bruce. Whatever it was, it hurt himself and everyone around him. Today had shown it. Bruce was toxic to the people around him. He had to fix it. He was close.

Bruce had all the parts he needed for his machine. He only needed to use it now.

But first, he had to see his son.

He stood up on surprisingly shaky legs and walked upstairs. The Grandfather Clock was indeed smashed. Bruce rubbed his eyes. Dick was anything but subtle in his anger. It reminded him far too much of that ugly time where Bruce had fired Dick and he had run off with the Titans. The time where they had torn into each other at every occasion. Bruce thought that they had brought it behind them. But apparently Bruce hadn’t learned anything. He felt trapped. Stuck. He couldn’t escape himself – and his family couldn’t either. Bruce had to do right by them. He had to fix this part within himself.

The manor was dark. Even Alfred had gone to bed. It was probably after midnight already.

Bruce silently opened Damian’s room. He could hear uneven breathing. Damian was already sleeping. His eyes were rimmed red and he had clutched the stuffed dog - he claimed he didn’t need – to his chest.

Bruce walked towards the bed. His feet hit something unexpected - glass. Bruce picked up a picture frame. Damian must have thrown it away. Bruce looked at the picture, his heart twisting. The family picture Dick had insisted upon. Bruce took the picture out of the ruined frame. He noticed the message on the back in Dick’s messy writing.

Bruce’s throat felt tight when he read it. It reminded him again of how much Dick loved Damian. And if Bruce was honest to himself, Dick was more of a father to Damian than Bruce had ever been. It created something ugly within Bruce. A feeling he didn’t want to examine. Bruce didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not if he hadn’t even tried.

Damian’s phone laid on the nightstand. Bruce frowned when it lighted up. A message from Dick. One after a dozen.  
  


_“You’re probably asleep, Dami. Just call me tomorrow. Or write. I’m worried.”_

Another message came in:  
  


_“OK. Promise that’s the last one. We can talk about Bruce if you want. I know how it feels._

_He’s forgotten my birthday, too, like a dozen times. If that makes you feel better. Just Bruce being Bruce, I guess. Not that it’s OK.”_

Bruce turned the phone around. He didn’t want to add blatant invasion of privacy to his long list of mistakes. (Not that he didn’t continuously invade his children’s privacy.)

Bruce leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead: “Happy birthday, Damian.”

“Father?”, it hurt that Damian sounded so surprised.

“Sleep well”, Bruce said.

It was a testament to Damian’s inner turmoil that he didn’t demand to go on patrol. Instead, he turned around and his breath evened out again.

Bruce silently left the room. He sighed rubbing his eyes. All the pieces were in place. Bruce could fix the moment that had destroyed his life.

He looked down at the family photo. Dick’s wide smile. Damian’s scowl. Cass’ silent contentedness. It gave Bruce the push needed to return to the Batcave. All of them deserved better. They deserved someone better than Bruce.

He took the machine and put it into the Batsuit. It was as big as a mobile phone with the ability to type a time onto the screen. If Bruce’s calculations had been right, he would awake in the body of his younger self.

Bruce took a deep breath and pushed the button.

*

Bruce felt breathless for a moment. He could feel everything and nothing. The weight of time and space was unbearable while Bruce literally bend them to his will. Bruce didn’t dare open his eyes. He didn’t dare to look at the forces that no single human could comprehend.

The breathlessness stopped and Bruce felt painfully small. His eyes flew open.

There was something soft in his right hand. His mother’s hand.

She smiled at him: “I see you enjoyed the movie, Bruce.”

Bruce looked at her – really looked at her. Seeing her next to him showed him how much he had forgotten about her over the years. The smell of her vanilla perfume. The glint of the pearls around her neck. And the purple nail polish she loved to wear. Bruce’s chest pinched. The color was the same one that Steph wore as Spoiler.

If Bruce changed this moment, he would probably never get to know Steph. But it would be for the better anyway. Bruce was a liability. Someone who pulled others down with his mission. Steph and the rest of his family would be better off without him. And Bruce could always find them again if he wanted to.

“Are you cold, Bruce?”, his mom asked.

“It’s fine”, Bruce smiled.

“You’re getting sick”, Martha frowned in concern, “Thomas, we could take the shortcut-“

“NO”, it came out more forceful than Bruce had intended to.

Martha flinched. Thomas also seemed concerned. Bruce observed him more closely. He remembered his father taller and with less wrinkles in his face. The perception of a child truly was amazing.

“I- It’s just”, Bruce tried to salvage the situation, “In school, they told us that this street is really dangerous.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but Thomas smiled.

  
“If you say so, Bruce”, Thomas said, “We should listen to the expert.”

They took the long way around. They reached the limousine where a more youthful Alfred was waiting. Bruce frowned when he saw the butler with far less wrinkles and far more hair. Only now, it dawned upon him how much his mission had also cost Alfred in his timeline.

“Masters”, Alfred smiled, “And the Mistress of course.”

“No need to be so formal, Alfred”, Martha laughed.

“I assume you liked the film?”, Alfred said.

“It was remarkable”, Thomas said.

Alfred opened the doors for them.

  
Bruce’s hands were shaking. Only on the way through the city did he notice that he was crying.

“Bruce, honey”, Martha said, “Are you fine?”

  
“Yes”, Bruce wiped away the tears, “The movie was just very sad.”

Martha frowned. She looked at Bruce’s hand: “What is that?”

Bruce frowned. He still held the time machine and the picture in his hand. Apparently, he could take objects with him.

“Nothing”, Bruce cleared his throat, “Just something my friend gave me.”

Bruce put it into the pocket of his coat.

“I love you, Mom and Dad”, Bruce said.

Martha still seemed concerned. But she stroked a hair strand out of Bruce’s eye: “We love you, too, honey.”

Bruce only took out the time machine and the picture when he was in his old room. Now it was Dick’s room. Or it had been Dick’s room in Bruce’s old timeline. Bruce missed the colorful posters. The family pictures that Dick cherished so much. His own room seemed dull in comparison.

As beautiful as being back here was, Bruce wanted to go forward. He had only wanted to change this one moment, not relive his childhood. Bruce had finally made it. He would live in the moment from now on. Only going forward. Just like Dick had asked him to.

Bruce used the machine again. A new life was waiting for him. The life of 43-year-old Bruce who wasn’t broken by the loss of his parents.


	2. The Brucie-Timeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finds himself in a world where his parents survived. It could be going better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has commented, given kudos... I always appreciate it because it shows me that people are enjoying it. :)
> 
> With this chapter, we enter what I dub the 'Brucie-timeline'. There's a reason for it. You'll see. ;)
> 
> Also warnings for implied child abuse. Nothing graphic though. Just some uncomfortable themes.

Bruce felt normal when he woke up again. He was in his 43-year old body. Sitting on the bed in his former childhood room. It was surprisingly messy. Clothes were strewn around – some of them definitely not Bruce’s. And definitely female.

The desk in front of the window was overflowing with bottles and discarded pizza bottles. Cigarettes laid in every corner. The blinds were closed so that only thin rays of sunlight illuminated the room. And it smelled like… weed?

Bruce shook his head in confusion. It felt cloudy upon further inspection. His body felt as if it had been run over by a car. And Bruce _knew_ what it was like to be run over by a car.

Bruce stood up. The pain in his head flared up as the sunlight pierced his eyes. Bruce squinted his eyes shut. His alternate self – or now real self – definitely had a hangover. Still, Bruce forced himself to open the blinds. The light seemed to set his head on fire.

Bruce hadn’t allowed himself to fly off the handle regarding alcohol since he had become Batman. Only acting drunk, instead of actually being it. He hadn’t missed the feeling.

His body felt strange. There was a tension in his muscles and his back hurt. Bruce was no stranger to pain. But this felt different. The pain of a body that had been worn down by decades of bad treatment.

Bruce looked at the clock. It was one in the afternoon. He frowned. Alfred didn’t even allow him to sleep this long after patrol. And he would get a heart attack if he saw Bruce’s room in this messy state.

Not even Jason dared to leave his cigarettes strewn around his room – or even smoke in it. Bruce ignored the pain in his chest at the thought of his son. Jason would be better off without Bruce. Bruce had gotten him killed. He would have a rough childhood. But ultimately Jason would claw himself into adulthood. He was smart. Bruce was completely sure that Jason would make it.

Bruce made himself look presentable, took a deep breath and left the room. He gratefully took the paracetamol that someone – probably Alfred - had laid onto a tray in front of his door. Time to greet his new, better life.

Bruce met Alfred on the way downstairs. The butler was standing on a ladder, dusting off the antique chandelier in the foyer. The one Dick had broken as a child – Bruce realized with a pang in his chest. In his old timeline, they had replaced it with a cheaper one with LED lights afterwards. A good decision because his children were little rascals that had broken more chandeliers afterwards.

There were no children in this house to break chandeliers now.

“Good day, Alfred”, Bruce ignored his melancholy and smiled.

“You are in a good mood, young master”, Alfred said, “And up quite early. I assumed that I would have to wake you for the WayneTech presentation – which would have been unfortunate because young Timothy is quite proud of his achievement.”

Bruce didn’t miss the snideness in Alfred’s voice. The butler wasn’t a stranger to biting politeness but usually his remarks still carried a certain fondness with them. Now, they just seemed cold. As if Alfred felt disdain for Bruce’s behavior.

“Timothy?”, Bruce frowned.

“You must still be tired Master Bruce”, Alfred said, “I prepared breakfast for you. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bruce nodded dumbly. He hadn’t imagined it. Alfred truly was colder than usual. It hurt to see this behavior from the man that was like a father to him. But it was to be expected. Bruce had a father in this timeline. Alfred didn’t need to fill this role now.

But this short conversation had also shown him that he was missing quite a few pieces of information. He would use his solitary breakfast as an opportunity to catch up.

So, Bruce took out his phone and searched for information while eating his scrambled eggs.

There were the usual Brucie-articles. And apparently, this Brucie was even wilder than Bruce’s cover persona had ever been. Articles about parties that ended in property damage. Drunk driving. Sexual escapades. Drugs. Bruce blushed at some of the articles. He hoped that most of this was also for show – but he doubted it.

He spared himself from the embarrassment and moved on to searching for his family.

Timothy Drake was indeed working at WayneTech – an intern in the R&D department. Bruce smiled in pride when he saw dozens of articles about his son’s scientific achievements.

Already a genius destined to eventually take up Drake Industries.

Tim’s life was definitely better. He could live out his intellectual streak without being in constant danger as Red Robin. And as an intern, Bruce would still have the opportunity to interact with his son. It couldn’t be better.

Bruce looked for the rest of his family. Kate worked in private security after leaving the military and was happily married to Maggie Sawyer. There was nothing about Jason, Damian, Barbara, Cass and Duke – which was probably a good sign.

Bruce didn’t find anything specifically about Steph. Just that Cluemaster was still a villain in this timeline who was temporarily in prison.

Dick’s parents had still died in the same manner as in Bruce’s timeline. Not surprising but Bruce still felt a twinge in his chest. Especially when he read that Dick had been sent to Juvie after the tragedy because Gotham’s orphanages had been full. Bruce knew how much Dick had suffered in Juvie. Still mourning and cut off from any source of comfort. Only anger had fueled him during this time. Anger that Bruce had helped channel into a constructive direction.

There was no follow-up about what had happened with Dick. Gotham was cruel like that. Drawing people in, only to spit them out and move on to the next victim. Dick’s story would have been old news after a week.

But Bruce didn’t doubt that it had a happy ending. Someone must have adopted Dick. Dick was a great person – caring and full of energy. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a son. He had lighted up Bruce’s life and Bruce didn’t doubt that Dick had done the same for someone else in this timeline. He would be better off with literally anyone else.

Bruce put down the phone and finished his breakfast. He would find out about the rest of his children eventually.

“The limousine is waiting for you, Master Bruce”, Alfred said.

Bruce nodded and stood up. He put the family photo into his pocket and straightened his back.

“It’s a beautiful day, Alfred.”

“It indeed is”, Alfred seemed surprised at Bruce’s antics, but he lightened up.

*

Bruce entered his office at WE only to discover a surprised Tim there.

“I wouldn’t have expected you so early, Mister Wayne”, Tim seemed to have trouble meeting Bruce’s eyes.

“It’s a big day. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Tim nodded: “We are going to present the solar battery in front of the press today.”

He took a stack of cards out of his blazer: “I already pre-wrote your speech for you, Mister Wayne.”

He seemed nervous, as if he was worried that Bruce would screw it up. Or that Bruce would go off on him.

“And you don’t need to worry about the detailed techy stuff. I will take over that part of the presentation”, Tim was still looking at his feet.

Bruce nodded and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder: “I’m sure you will do great, Tim. I’ve seldomly seen a mind as brilliant as yours.”

Tim raised his eyes. He frowned and righted his blazer only to do something with his hands.

“Th- Thank you, Mister Wayne.”

Bruce frowned. It seemed like this Bruce had never told Tim how brilliant he actually was. Bruce suspected that ‘Other Bruce’ was a bit of a jerk. Well… A real jerk according to his Rockstar-behavior. But Bruce could rectify this now.

The presentation went well. Bruce was thankful for the card because of course he had no idea about Tim’s project. Unexpectedly, it was brilliant. A solar battery that would propel the field forward for decades. One that could carry more charge and would also charge more quickly while also being relatively cheap.

Tim took over after a while, explaining in detail how the battery worked. Bruce nodded along. He smiled in pride when he saw how agitated Tim became about his project. Gesturing and talking too fast in his excitement at times.

Bruce was disappointed when the presentation ended and Tim quickly – but politely – said goodbye to Bruce and went off to celebrate with the rest of the R&D department.

“You can go now, Mister Wayne”, Lucius Fox said, barely looking up from his clipboard, “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Oh, right”, Bruce cleared his throat and went back to his limousine.

Frankly, he felt completely useless. Without Batman, he had expected this Bruce to be more involved in WE. Maybe to also work in Development. But apparently, this Bruce led quite a boring life without any intellectual challenges. Disappointing, but not a deal-breaker. Bruce could change this by gradually becoming more involved in tech development, and charity.

*

His parents were home when Bruce reached the manor again. It made Bruce forget all of his frustration. He would endure _a lot of_ trade-offs for this feeling.

Bruce met his father in the foyer. He was wearing a neatly tailored business suit and seemed to be on the way to his home office. Bruce frowned when he noticed that he was taller than his father now. Thomas had always seemed like a giant. An unshakable, solid presence.

Bruce halted, searching for words. What could he say to his father? It had to be something meaningful.

“Bruce, I’m glad you are here. You have a visitor”, Thomas nodded at Bruce curtly.

Bruce stood there. With an open mouth. Feeling dumbstruck. The right words wouldn’t come. Bruce never found the right words.

“It’s a woman”, Thomas said, “Ms. Al Ghul. Martha is talking to her in the dining room.”

“Talia?”, was the only thing Bruce could get out.

Thomas sighed: “She seems a bit intense. You really know how to pick them, boy. But don’t screw this up. You know how influential the Al Ghuls are. They are no one to make enemies of.”

“Sure”, Bruce said.

Thomas nodded and walked up the stairs.

  
“Dad?”, Bruce managed to get out.

Thomas halted, turning to Bruce with one hand on the railing.

“I- I love you”, the words stumbled out of Bruce’s mouth.

They surprised him because Bruce had never managed to say these words to any of his children. He had always implied them with his actions.

Thomas seemed taken aback, tightening his hand around the railing: “I love you, too, Bruce.”

Then, he went up the stairs. Bruce stayed there. Rooted to the spot. Smiling to himself. He had managed to say it. He was already healing. All it had taken was to get his parents back.

Bruce entered the dining room. He could hear the faint chatter of Martha and Talia.

Talia sounded the same as in the old timeline. A faint accent that carried a lot of dignity with it. The voice of a natural fighter.

Martha sounded different than Bruce remembered from his childhood. More assertive but still caring.

Bruce said: “Talia?”

It was indeed Talia al Ghul who was sitting across from Martha. They were drinking tea.

And Talia didn’t look happy. Her face grew icy when she saw Bruce. Talia had never been so hostile at him. Even not after Bruce and her had fought each other nearly to the death.

“Bruce”, she said almost like an insult – a far cry from her usual ‘Beloved’.

But Bruce felt hope stir in his chest. If Talia was here, then Damian was probably, too.

“I’ll leave you two to it”, Martha’s voice was neutral – polite.

Bruce sat down across from Talia.

“How are you?”, Bruce asked.

“I don’t have time for pleasantries”, Talia said, “I’m searching for my son – our son.”

Bruce felt his insides turn to ice. Damian was missing?

“Where is he?”, Bruce said.

Talia leaned forward, glaring at him: “I’m here to ask you this. He ran away from home in search for you. He’s always had a wish to meet you, but I told him that you weren’t someone worth meeting. The boy didn’t listen.”

“Not worth meeting? Talia, what are you talking about?”

“I chose you to father my heir for your familial legacy and for your genetic potential to become a great fighter. Your genes were useful but you yourself turned out to be a disappointment. Damian never understood. He is in his rebellious phase.”

Wow. That one hurt. Bruce didn’t have the best past with Talia. They had shared a night together and she had unknowingly used this opportunity to become pregnant – keeping Damian from Bruce for ten years. Bruce had parted ways with her when it became clear that she would always choose her familial duties over doing the right thing. But they had always had a certain respect for each other.

“I know that he was here. My assassins have found evidence of his presence”, Talia’s voice turned icier, “I hoped to find him here. But apparently you turned him away.”

“I wouldn’t turn a child away”, Bruce said.

But he halted. _Bruce_ wouldn’t turn a child away. _Brucie_ – the guy whose room was filled with bad decisions – would probably not hesitate.

Talia scoffed: “I’m surprised that you even believe me that he is our son.”

“I can help you find him, Talia.”

She stood up: “No need to. Not that you would be of any help anyway. I’ll send people out to find him. And I’ll ensure that he’ll never pull this stunt again.”

There was something threatening in her voice. Something enraged.

With that, Talia left the manor. Bruce shuddered. He could only imagine what Talia had in store for Damian. But Bruce could fix this. This was just a minor issue. Bruce just had to find Damian before Talia – somehow.

*

Dick knew that this visit would be rough the moment he entered the worn-down apartment building in one of the seedier parts of Gotham. A rat scurried through the hallway. Wet stains covered the ceiling.

He looked down at his clipboard until he found the right apartment number. Apartment 16b. A little girl was living there. Anna Peters. Her father had repeatedly been in prison and her mother struggled with drug addiction. Social services had become aware of them after a domestic dispute call three months ago.

Dick skimmed the notes his co-worker had made during his last visit. His notes were brief. Johnson had noted that there was nothing amiss and the girl had been well cared for during his latest visits. Dick’s stomach churned. This apartment complex didn’t look like one for a girl who was well cared for.

Dick walked up the stairs. They creaked with every step and Dick felt them bend under his weight.

The door to 16b looked messy. Paint peeled off. Dick tried to ring the doorbell, but it was broken. So, he knocked against the door.

No reaction.

Dick knocked again. Waited.

No reaction.

“Gotham Child Protective Services”, Dick said loudly, “Please open the door. I’m here for a scheduled visit.”

Heavy steps neared the door. A heavy stank hit Dick in the face when a middle-aged man opened the door. He wore a stained tank-top and looked at Dick with watery eyes.

Dick smiled: “I’m from Gotham CPS. My name is-“

“Where’s the other guy?”, the father – Robert – said.

“Mr. Johnson – your usual caseworker - came down with the flu. I’m filling in for him today.”

Robert grumbled. He opened the door letting Dick in.

The flat was in a worse state than the hallway. Stacked boxes were leaning against the walls. Dirty clothes laid on the floor and it was filled with cigarette smoke.

“Where is your wife?”, Dick asked.

“Asleep”, Robert said.

“And Anna?”

“In her room.”

“I need to have a look around”, Dick said, “And talk to her by herself.”

Robert grunted. Unimpressed.

Dick ignored his lack of enthusiasm and opened door after door. His mouth thinned when he entered the living room. Mrs. Peters was indeed asleep. But this was more likely due to the needles that were strewn across the coffee table. Most likely heroine.

Dick checked the woman’s pulse. It was steady. He breathed in relief.

“Dad?”, a small voice said.

The girl stood in the doorway. According to the clipboard, she was nine. But she looked younger. More like six. A bruise in the form of handprints was around her neck. It stood out to Dick like a red flag.

Dick tensed but he tried to look natural. He introduced himself to the girl with a smile. But she seemed weary of him. Dick couldn’t blame her.

“Where is the other guy?”, Anna asked.

Dick crouched in front of her, keeping a respectful distance: “Mr. Johnson is ill – unfortunately. I’m filling in for him today. Do you know why I am here?”

Anna shrugged: “To take my Dad’s money?”

Dick’s throat felt dry. He had his suspicions about Johnson. And this visit apparently proved that another one of his co-workers was dirty. What a joy.

Dick masked his discomfort and chuckled: “No. I am here to ensure that you are doing well.

I need to ask you some questions. Can you do that for me?”

She frowned. Looking confused for a moment. Johnson definitely had never done this with her. Dick swallowed down the anger inside of him. It wouldn’t help.

“Sure”, she muttered.

“Great”, Dick said, “It won’t take long. How about we-“

Her father groaned and went to the cupboard. He pulled something out of a tobacco box. A bundle of cash.

“Look”, Robert held the bundle out to Dick, “We can stop this charade. 300? 50 more than I usually give the other guy.”

Dick’s mouth thinned: “You misunderstood, Mr. Peters. I don’t take cash.”

“What do you want? Weed? Something heavier?”

Dick shook his head: “I have to make a phone call.”

Mr. Peters tensed. And Dick was prepared for things to turn violent. Anna looked at her father with wide eyes. Dick had seen this gaze too often. Pure fear. It always made his stomach clench. He knew what it was like to analyze every movement of an adult closely. Looking out for any threat. It could save your life in certain situations.

“How about we talk in the hallway, Anna?”, Dick said.

Anna nodded and followed him. She seemed perceptive. Gotham children always were. They had to be in this cesspool of a city.

Anna followed Dick outside. He crouched in front of her. Again, leaving enough space to not seem threatening.

“You’re taking me away?”, she said.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

She pushed her lips shut.

“Your throat. Someone hurt you”, Dick softened his voice.

Anna glared at him: “Why do you care? The other guy didn’t.”

It was a hard question. But Dick had to answer it. He remembered what he had been like at nine. Stuck in Juvie. Adults constantly brushing off his questions of when he could leave. No one had listened. And no one had answered. Anna deserved better.

Dick took a deep breath: “I lost my parents when I was a bit younger than you. And I can tell you from experience that the system sucks. And most people that run it also suck. But there are some people in it that genuinely care. And I happen to know them. So, I can make sure that you end up with someone good.”

Anna’s stance grew less tense. She took a small step closer to Dick, her arms still crossed.

“You promise?”, she muttered.

“Pinky-promise”, Dick held out his little finger.

Anna took it, her hand shaky. But she even smiled a bit. Dick smiled back.

Anna lowered her gaze, her fingers lying on the marks on her throat: “My father did it. He was drunk. And I was hungry. I was just trying to make some food. But I screwed up. So, he- I didn’t want to screw up.”

Dick bit his lip in sympathy. Pushing down his own memories. His work was… uncomfortable in this regard.

“It’s not your fault – no matter what he or anyone else says”, Dick squeezed her hand, “Can you tell the police what happened?”

“I think so”, Anna muttered, “But I don’t want to do it alone. I- He would be so angry.”

“You won’t have to be alone”, Dick said, “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Anna nodded, stepping even closer to him.

“I’m calling the police”, Dick said.

Anna stayed quiet. Dick took out his phone, fingers flying over the cracked screen. He made the call quickly, hoping that the parents wouldn’t resist.

“You are different than the other guy”, Anna said, “He came every few months. But he didn’t talk to me. He just took Dad’s money and left.”

“Remember what I told you about bad people?”

Anna nodded.

“Johnson is not a good guy”, Dick said, “He shouldn’t have turned a blind eye to what happened to you. That was wrong.”

“I’m glad he is ill today”, Anna whispered as if it was a secret just between them.

“As a responsible social worker, I don’t condone bad wishes upon people _of course_ ”, Dick smiled, “But Johnson is a prick. So, he deserves it.”

Anna giggled. It was a quiet sound. Hesitant. But it was something. And these sounds made Dick’s job worth it.

They waited for the police. Dick kept Anna occupied with simple questions about her favorite animals and colors. Anna tensed when she heard the sirens from outside. The police was coming.

“It will be fine”, Dick said, “But can you promise me something, Anna? Don’t tell the police about Johnson.”

Anna frowned: “But I thought he is a bad person.”

“He is”, Dick said, “But he knows some _very bad_ people. And I don’t want them to know about you.”

Anna tensed. She looked frightened.

“It will be fine”, Dick said, “I promise. You’ll be safe as long as you don’t mention what Johnson did.”

“But I don’t want him to do this to other children.”

Dick frowned. Taken aback by Anna’s bravery. It was commendable. Dick didn’t know if he would have been as brave with nine. Scratch that. He _definitely_ hadn’t been. Dick had been a crying, grieving mess at nine. Barely able to function. And in his mid-teens he had been a ball of rage. Destructive to anyone around him. Fun times.

“He won’t”, Dick looked around making sure that they were alone, “I’m collecting evidence about Johnson and others like him. They will face justice. Eventually.”

Anna reached for his hand: “But won’t the bad people hurt you?”

That was the million-dollar question. And Dick could definitely answer it with yes. He would be screwed if anyone found out about his wannabe-detective work. But it would be fine as long as his wannabe-detective work changed something before it would eventually catch up with him. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him though. Except for Jason maybe.

But Anna shouldn’t know that.

Dick smiled: “They won’t know. I’m like a ninja.”

He _definitely_ wasn’t.

She giggled: “I won’t tell.”

Dick knew that she was telling the truth. She was smart. Smarter than Dick had ever been. She could make it if Dick arranged something good for her.

The police came up the stairs. Dick stood up, straightening his disheveled coat. Not that it made any difference. He explained the case to the police. Anna hid behind Dick’s legs while the police led her parents away.

*

The hard plastic seat of the train dug into Dick's back. He felt his head sink forward from exhaustion. Wrapping things up with Anna had taken longer than expected. It was late, almost midnight. But the train was still crowded. People chatted, their faces illuminated by the bright neon lights.

He jumped when the computer voice announced the next train station. Dick massaged his temples. He shouldn’t sleep on the train. It wasn’t safe. Almost asking to get robbed or killed. And Dick didn’t have a death wish despite what some people thought.

Dick needed a distraction. So, he took out his notebook jotting down what had happened today.

With Johnson confirmed, Dick knew that 90% percent of his colleagues were dirty and intentionally turned a blind eye to the helpless children in front of them. He suspected another 5% but he couldn’t proof it yet. Dick would add the evidence he had found today to the shoebox he kept in his wardrobe.

All in all, it had been a productive day. But also a draining one. He couldn’t forget the marks on Anna’s throat. She had told the police everything. Even more details that had made Dick feel sick. She was safe for now. Staying in an orphanage that Dick knew was run by trustful people.

He would need some time to find good foster parents for her. At least she wasn’t shoved into Juvie. But Dick would never shove a kid into Juvie. He always found space somewhere.

Dick put the notebook into his jacket pocket. Forcing his eyes to stay open. He didn’t even know if he liked his job most of the times.

But he wanted to change something. And what other alternatives did he have? Become a cop? No one could reform that broken system. Not even Gordon. And especially not a nobody like Dick.

And he didn’t have the money or the skills to become a doctor or an EMT. Firefighter was also out of question with Dick’s criminal record. Social worker was the only way. They were so understaffed and corrupt that nobody cared about any past qualifications.

Dick forced himself to stay optimistic. He may hate his job when he saw an abuser getting away with it for money. Or seeing the sick shit that people could do to children. But it was worth it for the kids Dick had managed to help. It would have meant the world to Dick if just one person had listened to him during his teenage years. Maybe it would have helped him find the right path earlier and not give in to his anger.

Dick jolted up when the train halted at his stop. He hurried to the door with only a sliver of his acrobatic grace. Dick stumbled on the platform almost crashing into a young man. Apparently, running on two hours of sleep could do that to your motor skills.

“I’m sorry”, Dick said, smiling sheepishly.

The man ignored him and went on. Ah. The joys of Gotham. Dick would make it out of here. Eventually. Maybe find the circus again.

  
Dick dug a crumbled five-dollar bill and some change out of his pocket. Great. Enough for a dinner that wasn’t cereal. It had been a while.

Dick’s spirits were lifted as he crossed Park Row. Maybe his day wasn’t that bad. He would actually cook, watch some mind-numbingly stupid TV and catch some sleep. Sounded like a good night to him.

But before he could do that, he had to go shopping. Dick went towards the small grocery store across from his flat.

“Hey, Dick”, a voice said.

Dick halted and turned around. A blonde girl was sitting on a fire escape in an alley near the supermarket. Stephanie Brown.

Dick smiled when he saw her, secretly glad that she was still alive. She had the strange habit of choosing the strangest places to sit on. Dick used that old acrobatics training and jumped up the fire escape.

“How are you doing?”, Dick sat down next to her, dangling his feet over the ledge.

Being high up always made him feel like a kid again. He missed flying.

Steph was huddled in a purple hoody with more holes than fabric. Dick looked at her in concern. He could see a red handprint on her wriest.

“I’m fine”, she said, tugging up her sleeve.

“He shouldn’t-“

“It wasn’t _him_ ”, Steph said, “You know that I don’t live with him anymore.”

“I can help you, Steph”, Dick said, “I can pull a few strings. Find a good home for-“

“No”, she said, “I like it how it is. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I ran away from him. And I can finally do what I’ve always wanted to.”

Dick frowned: “Someone is hurting you.”

“It’s my own fault really”, Steph shrugged, “Been getting into fights.”

Dick sighed internally. But he didn’t show his irritation. Steph was far too thick-headed for her own good. He had first met her a couple of months ago on the streets. Steph hadn’t been very forthcoming. But Dick could read the signs of abuse on her. And what Steph had told him about her father hadn’t sounded good.

“You know how dangerous-“

  
“You are off the clock, Grayson”, she said, “You don’t need to go social worker on me.”

“I’m just worried.”

  
“I know”, she smiled, “And I appreciate it. But I’m not alone. I found some good people who are helping me.”

“Who?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Is it some gang?”

“It’s not a gang”, Steph said, “We are doing good things. Helping people.”

Dick sighed: “You know that you can always call me?”

“I still got your number”, Steph winked at him.

Dick shook his head in exasperation. But he smiled, too. Steph was doing things in her own way and Dick couldn’t force her to do anything.

Dick pushed the five-dollars into her hands: “At least use that to buy yourself a new hoodie.”

  
“Are you saying I’m ugly, Grayson?”, she asked.

“I’m saying that you are wearing an ugly hoodie.”

“Ouch”, Steph acted mock-hurt, “As much as I love talking to you, gotta go.”

“See your friends?”

“You should have been a detective, Dick”, she said.

“Promise me that it’s not dangerous.”

“I promise that it’s not as dangerous as it could be”, Steph said.

Dick shook his head. But he waved at her. Steph jumped down the fire escape hurrying out of the alley.

Dick looked at the loose change in his hand. Maybe enough to buy an apple. Dick shrugged. Cereal it would be.

*

Damian was crouching behind a dumpster within a dark alley. It was night-time in the seediest part of Gotham. People – definitely intoxicated – crossed the street in front of the alley. They tortured Damian’s ears with their horrendous singing.

Damian had spent the last few days scurrying through Gotham and staying in abandoned buildings. Always evading the assassins his mother had sent after him. It was below him, but a true warrior knew when they needed to endure sacrifices.

Damian knew that he couldn’t hide forever. He needed a plan. Allies. Damian had hoped for protection by his father. But Bruce Wayne had slammed his door into Damian’s face when Damian had told him the truth about his heritage. Such indignity.

Now, Damian understood why his mother had always told him that Bruce Wayne was unworthy of seeing him. The man was an imbecilic drunkard – too caught up in the pleasures of his luxurious life to be of any use. Mother had only elected him for his genetic potential. And it truly was great as it had birthed Damian. He was destined for greatness. That’s what he reminded himself of while he was huddled behind a dumpster.

Damian scowled when booming voices neared. Some of the drunkards entered the alley. They fit the image that Damian had always had about Americans: spoiled and without manners.

Damian looked at the fire escape. He could easily escape from them. But these fools weren’t even worthy of looking at Damian. He would walk out of this alley with his head held high.

Damian stood up and walked towards the exit. The drunkards noticed him, standing in front of them. Damian glared at the five of them: “Let me pass, you imbeciles.”

One of them snickered, apparently the leader. He – like the others – wore a shirt with a number printed on the front. How helpful. It would make identifying them easier.

The leader – 30 – flexed his arms believing himself to be intimidating: “Look at that kid. He apparently thinks he’s a ninja.”

“I’m not a ninja”, Damian said, “I’m an assassin. Trained by the Demon’s Head and his Daughter himself. Not that you would understand.”

“Do you understand anything?”, 12 said.

23 shook his head: “That fucking accent is unbearable.”

The leader rubbed his hands: “Let’s teach him a lesson.”

Damian had waited for an opportunity to work off his aggression ever since his father had rejected him. These meatbags posed the perfect opportunity. The world would be better off without them. Damian drew his katana.

Worry ran through their eyes. But 30 smashed a beer bottle and lunged at Damian. Damian flipped out of the way and ran his katana through the man’s chest. He ripped it out again glaring at the other men. They watched as their leader gurgled on his blood.

“Who is next?”, Damian ripped his katana out of the fool’s chest.

The men shrank back. It finally dawned upon them in how much danger they were.

They ran out of the alley screaming for help at the top of their lungs.

Damian thought about pursuing them. But he had come to America to get away from his deadly lifestyle. The older he became, the wearier killing made him. He had always believed becoming the Demon’s Head was his destiny. But the desperation in the eyes of his victims had made him second-guess himself. Every kill made Damian doubt more – until Damian hadn’t known anymore what he wanted.

Cassandra Cain had been the weight that had tipped the scale. Damian still didn’t understand her actions despite thinking about them for months.

He had hoped that his stranger of a father could help him. Give him a new purpose. Damian scoffed. What a disappointment his father had turned out to be. But he should have expected it. Damian was used to fending for himself.

He jumped up the fire escape. But when he reached the top, something ripped the katana out of his hand. A whip.

Damian turned around to come face-to-face with Catwoman. One of Gotham’s infamous vigilantes.

She circled him: “The crazies from the League of Assassins keep getting younger and younger. What are you doing here, kid?”

Damian lunged at her. Catwoman was nimble. She evaded his attacks and kept him at arm’s length with her whip. Damian had to admit that she was a capable combatant.

But she seemed to go easy on him out of some false sense of sentimentality. Not even hitting him with her weapon. A mistake. Damian rolled under her whip and kicked her against the knee. Catwoman soaked in air when her knee cracked. Dislocated. Damian took his katana and the whip from her.

“Do yourself a favor and surrender”, a dark-skinned woman pointed a crossbow at Damian, “I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

She seemed determined and highly trained. Damian would be a fool to underestimate her.

“The Birds of Prey don’t kill, Huntress”, a girl jumped on the roof on Damian’s other side, “But seriously, you should really surrender.”

Damian looked at her. She wore a purple costume with a hood. A cloth covered the lower half of her face. Her footing was atrocious. The girl seemed inexperienced. Less of a threat. But Damian couldn’t take this risk. Not when he was on his own and unfamiliar with his opponents. It would be smarter to retreat.

So, Damian used the whip to rip the crossbow out of Huntress’ hands. It slid over the roof. Then, he ran. Something slammed into him. The purple girl. Damian fell to the floor.

“We can’t let you go. You killed a civilian”, she tried to pin him down.

But Damian wriggled out of her grip and sent a kick to her temple. She went unconscious.  
Damian continued running. Behind him, Huntress growled in frustration. She was in pursuit – having regained her crossbow. Damian needed to lose her.

He jumped off the roof aiming to land on a fire escape on the other side of the alley. But something pierced his shoulder making Damian jolt. Huntress had hit him with one of her bolts.

Damian barely stuck his landing. He slammed onto the fire escape feeling a number of his ribs break. Damian soaked in air and quickly picked the lock of one of the windows. He vanished inside a flat closing the window behind himself. Damian stumbled through the flat until he reached the front door.

His energy left him in the hallway. With the adrenaline slowing down, Damian felt himself become tired from blood loss. But he had to go on… He had to find somewhere safe. But where? There was no safe place for Damian left anymore.

A terrified shriek pierced through Damian’s cloudy head. A middle-aged woman stood in front of him looking at him in shock. Damian collapsed in the middle of the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evil cliffhangar alert. ;)
> 
> I live for tired social worker!Dick. The job fits him. I would love to see it in canon.  
> Poor Dami and Steph. :(
> 
> But Tim isn't doing horribly. So, that's something...
> 
> I chose to not go with version of Damian's conception where Talia slipped Bruce a drug. Because I find it very uncomfortable and I don't think canon ever appropriately addressed it? (Correct me if I'm wrong.) It's similar to the Tarantula and Mirage situation for Dick. DC just keeps bringing these things up and not addressing them with the sensitivity they deserve. (Fanfic is doing the legwork in that regard. I've read so many great Tarantula, Mirage fics.)  
> So, I went with the whole thing being consensual and Talia using the opportunity to get pregnant without telling Bruce. Not that that is okay either - because it's not. 
> 
> And I used the New 52!Grayson version of Huntress because she is a badass and I love her.


	3. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is in deep shit. Bruce tries to do damage control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. This one was hard to write but I'm happy how it turned out.   
> I don't know if I'm gonna make it next Sunday though. I have some deadlines coming up that already make me cringe.
> 
> And there may be a sliver of Jason in this...

Dick groaned when his phone rang. He turned around in his bed pulling the pillow over his head. The phone continued ringing. A shrill pop song whose name Dick didn’t remember in his tired state. Why had he chosen it as a ringtone again?

It had no use. The call had to be important. Probably an emergency. Dick took the call without looking at the caller ID.

“Grayson?”

“Dick”, it was Leslie Thompkins, “I need you here at the clinic right now.”

“Is there an emergency?”, Dick’s thoughts raced – immediately growing more alert.

Was one of his charges injured? Maybe even Stephanie? She had been up to something.

“A few people from the neighborhood brought a boy here. Around 12 to 13. He had a bolt in his shoulder. From a crossbow or something?”

“Shit”, Dick ran his hand through his hair, “Is he OK?”

“I took care of the wound. He’s sleeping the sedative off.”

“I’m on my way.”

Dick stumbled out of the bed putting on the first clothes on the floor he could find. Leslie’s clinic was close enough to his flat. So, he just hurried instead of taking the train.

Dick was breathing heavily when he arrived at the clinic. He had been in better shape once. But exercising was hard when you spent most of your time worrying about dozens of children.

Leslie led him to a side room. The boy was lying on the bed sleeping soundly. His hair was stained with sweat, and Dick suspected that his olive skin was paler than usual. The bandage around his shoulder stood out against his patient garb. Dick’s heart clenched. He looked so vulnerable.

“Do you know him?”, Leslie asked.

Dick shook his head. Leslie told him where the neighbors had found him.

Dick rubbed his pained temples looking helplessly at the boy: “Why did you call me, Leslie? This is a case for the police.”

Leslie sighed: “There is something off about him. The neighbors found a backpack with a bloody sword with him. And he was conscious for a bit speaking in what I assume is Arabic.”

That was indeed strange. Even for Gotham. Now, Dick knew why Leslie had called him. Gotham’s corrupt police wouldn’t care that the boy was a kid. They would rip him apart.

“You see why we can’t call the police?”, Leslie said.

“Maybe his parents are still around”, Dick sidestepped Leslie’s question for now.

He was too tired to think of all the implications it entailed. Because what were they supposed to do if they _didn’t_ call the police? Dick couldn’t just get the boy into a home without anyone asking questions. Someone needed to investigate this. Someone competent who actually knew what they were doing. And that certainly wasn’t Dick himself.

“We’ll have to ask him.”

Dick truly hoped that this boy had good parents. He didn’t know what to do with him in any other case. But which boy with good parents ran around with a bloody sword?

Dick shook his head and decided to enter the patient room. His job would eventually kill him.

*

When Damian woke up, he felt like a dozen knives had been sunken into his shoulder. He left his eyes closed, taking a few moments to remember. Damian had been injured. His last memory was of the woman who had looked at him in shock.

He was lying on something soft. No restraints. Someone had tended to his wounds then - probably fooled by Damian’s child-like demeanor. Usually, Damian hated being treated like a mere child. But he would let this little indignity slide for the sake of his survival.

Damian opened his eyes. The room was small and painfully bare. Grey walls and washed out posters that informed about several health-related problems.

A man in his mid-twenties sat on a plastic chair next to Damian. He held a cup of coffee and stoked it with a thin plastic spoon. The man seemed restless. His foot twitched over the floor. The sole of his shoe squeaking on the linoleum. Damian could barely tell what the original color of the shoe was. The washed-out blue had faded after years of use and was covered in dirt.

Damian narrowed his eyes. Ready for a potential attack.

The man looked up from his coffee and smiled tensely. He didn’t look hostile and from Damian’s evaluation he wouldn’t pose much of a threat. Everything about the man seemed washed out. Exhausted. An easy enemy to defeat.

The man spoke in a soft voice that was probably supposed to be soothing: “Hello. You’re probably scared but you don’t need to be. I’m here to help you. My name is Dick Grayson and I’m a social worker.”

The man’s _comforting_ behavior and his unkempt attire immediately stoked Damian’s annoyance. He didn’t need to be treated like a child – especially not by this creature.

Damian scoffed, turning his gaze away from the man: “Not interested.”

“What is your name?”

“Nothing that would concern you, imbecile.”

Damian didn’t owe this man a conversation. This simple creature was below him. People who aimed to help others generally were gullible doormats. They wouldn’t reach anything in life. So, they opted to live through others instead. Grayson fit the type perfectly.

“Ouch”, the man chuckled, “At least you are blunt. There is nothing worse than masked politeness.”

Damian glared at the man. He moved to stand up. Damian’s shoulder protested. Grayson gently pushed Damian back down.

“You shouldn’t do that. You took quite a hit.”

“I’ve endured worse”, Damian shoved off Grayson’s hand.

Grayson frowned: “That is very brave of you. But you are a child. You shouldn’t have to endure pain. No one should have to.”

Damian crossed his arms – and regretted it when pain flared up in his shoulder: “Pain makes us stronger.”

  
At least that’s what Grandfather and Mother had always told him. All the training, punishment, the guilt – Damian had endured it all for the end goal of being a worthy heir. It had to have a purpose. Otherwise, Damian had endured all of it for nothing.

Grayson seemed thoughtful: “Only if we overcome it. If we don’t, it just pulls us down until we can’t see the surface anymore.”

Damian frowned trying to understand what this imbecile meant.

Grayson’s thoughtfulness suddenly vanished and was replaced by a smile: “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get depressing there. I generally try to always be optimistic.”

Damian scoffed. Fool.

“So, what is your name?”, Grayson kept pushing.

Damian raised his chin: “Damian al Ghul. Son of the great Thalia al Ghul and heir to the Demon’s Head who is my grandfather.”

Grayson frowned: “So, your parents are alive?”

“They are”, Damian said, “But I opted to leave my mother out of… certain disagreements in personal philosophy. And my father is a useless imbecile. You two would get along.”

  
Damian couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice when it came to his father.

Grayson sighed: “Do you have somewhere you can go, Damian?”

Damian blistered at the implication. He was Damian al Ghul. He wasn’t a nobody. Damian al Ghul would always have a place… where exactly? He couldn’t go back to Infinity Island, the place he had wanted to escape from. Mother would be disappointed. And Grandfather- Damian shuddered at the thought what the Demon’s Head would do to him. Damian was the future of the League of Assassins. His Grandfather needed Damian to be a loyal asset. Defection was impossible.

But Damian had defected. With the hope that his father would shelter him. But there was nothing for him in Gotham. Damian was truly alone for the first time in his life. And it… unsettled him.

Still, Damian couldn’t show any weakness: “I don’t need your help.”

“So, you have nowhere to go”, it was a realization more than question.

Grayson frowned, looking down at his coffee again. He was thinking.

Damian stayed silent – waiting for Grayson’s slow mind to catch up.

“It’s fine”, Grayson looked up and smiled tensely.

Damian wanted to wipe the smile off his face. It was annoying him. Everything about this man annoyed him. The squeaking of his shoes. The faked concern. The belief that Damian needed help. Or even worse: The assumption that this cretin could even help Damian.

“We’ll figure something out”, Grayson sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

He reached for Damian’s hand. Damian pulled his wriest into a vice-like grip. Grayson’s face stayed unmoving. Apparently not shocked by Damian’s reaction. Damian noted that there were a number of crude scars on Grayson’s hands. Ragged as if they had been cut.

“Do that again and I’ll break all of your fingers one by one”, Damian growled.

Damian expected Grayson to recoil in fear. But he just nodded and pulled his hand back.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Damian.”

Damian scoffed: “As if you could. You’d rather run away in terror.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Damian”, Grayson was still sitting in the chair stoking his coffee with the plastic spoon, “I’ve dealt with worse than a ten-year old.”

“I’m thirteen, you idiot.”

“Good to know”, Grayson finished his coffee and stood up, “I’ll talk to Leslie. See when we can get you released.”

Grayson left the room. Damian thought about escaping but he buried the idea quickly. He didn’t have anywhere to go. Grayson was his best chance – at least temporarily. Damian would take advantage of his foolishness.

*

  
Dick had bitten off far more than he could chew. He paced through the clinic in front of Damian’s room, empty coffee cup clutched in his hand. Everything screamed at him to call the police so that they would take care of the boy. It would be the sensible option. The sane option.

There was something off about the boy. He was haughty. But Dick was used to that. Some kids overcompensated when they had been mistreated. Acting like douchebags because they were trying to protect themselves. Dick knew this more intimately than he should. Damian had definitely been mistreated.

The way he had automatically tensed when he had noticed Dick’s presence. Examined him closely for his threat-level. And the bloody katana. Something was deeply wrong here and Dick supposed that it was related to the family the kid had mentioned.

Damian was the grandson of the Demon’s Head? Whatever that was. That sounded way above Dick’s paygrade. Hell. Dick didn’t even know if that was on _anyone’s_ paygrade.

Dick’s thoughts wandered to the evidence box in his wardrobe. He couldn’t draw any attention to himself. And this kid was trouble. But people had called Dick trouble at some point, too. Rightfully so.

Dick wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for a handful of people who had tried despite his prickly demeanor. Well… Two people exactly. Leslie and Jason. Didn’t Damian deserve the same consideration?

“What are you doing?”, Leslie asked.

“I wish I knew.”

“You aren’t calling the police on that kid?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”, Dick said, “I can’t just put him in a home without anyone asking questions.”

  
Leslie narrowed her lips. She wasn’t pleased. But she didn’t have a better alternative – which proved Dick’s point.

Dick halted when his phone buzzed. He looked at the caller ID. Johnson. Someone must have told him about Anna. Probably one of his lovely co-workers.

“Shit”, Dick muttered.

He knew that Johnson would eventually complain. But Dick had hoped that he would still have some time. At least until the next day. But apparently, Johnson was pissed. Which was less than optimal in the current situation.

Leslie looked at him in concern.

He thought about ignoring the call. It was in the middle of the night after all. But he had to confront it eventually. Might as well do it now.

“Hey”, Dick stifled a fake-yawn, “Is there an emergency? Do I have to come-“

  
“Cut the bullshit, Grayson”, Johnson said.

Dick tried to play dumb. It worked most of the time.

“What? Are you still sick? I’m so sorry to hear-”

“That doesn’t matter”, Johnson indeed sounded nasally, “I know that you took the Peters-girl out of her home.”

Dick tried to sound even dumber: “Isn’t that my job? Did I do something wrong?”

Johnson growled in frustration: “That girl’s family was a cash cow. And you took that away from me, Grayson.”

Dick’s face twisted in anger. But he kept his voice confused.

“Cash cow? They didn’t have any cows.”

“You fucking idiot”, Johnson said, “Why couldn’t you just take the damn money and let it drop? It would have benefitted us both.”

“I don’t know what you mean”, Dick was _really_ dialing up the stupidity here.

Johnson’s voice became lower, more threatening: “I know that you are less stupid than you act. That pretty-boy façade doesn’t fool me. I know that you are snooping. A number of people know. And it won’t end well for you.”

“Thanks for the warning I guess?”, Dick said, “I still don’t know what you mean, but I’m tired. It was a long day.”

“This isn’t a fucking warning”, Johnson said, “This is a fucking threat. Pull something like this again and we’ll fucking ruin your life. Not that there is much to ruin. And not that it would be difficult. I know all about you, Grayson.”

Dick balled his fists. His fingertips dug into his palms.

Dick smirked to himself: “You know, Johnson. It sounds like we need some workplace mediation. I didn’t know that you harbored those feelings towards me.”

Dick could practically hear Jason groan inside his head. He had always been exasperated about Dick’s tendency to piss people off. Jason pissed people off as well. But he had enough survival instinct to know when to keep his mouth shut. And he was very good at distinguishing real threats from fake ones.

Johnson growled in frustration: “Let it drop, Grayson, if you don’t want to end up dead in a gutter.”

Johnson ended the call. Dick’s heart was racing. Anger bubbling inside of him. He smashed his fist into the nearest wall. It didn’t even budge and it hurt like hell.

“I would appreciate it if you would keep the clinic and your hand intact”, Leslie’s voice was dry.

“Sorry, Leslie”, Dick mumbled, rubbing his hand.

At least, the pain covered the anger. Dick wiggled his fingers, glad that he could still move them. Nothing broken then. Just bruised.

“Are you in trouble?”, Leslie asked.

“Not more than usual.”

_Definitely more than usual._

  
Leslie shook her head: “You are the death of me. You and Jason. Every time I have to patch one of you up.”

Dick smiled sheepishly.

“Whatever you are doing, you need to be careful”, Leslie said, “I don’t want to see you hurt. There are people who care about you, Dick. Even if you don’t feel like it.”

Dick’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t help but remember the last time someone had told him something like this. It had been Leslie herself, the first time they met. It had been right in the middle of what Dick could only dub his raging-punk-phase.

Dick cringed just when he thought about it.

“I was in a similar situation once”, Leslie looked at Dick - _meaningfully_ , “I wanted to call the authorities, but I didn’t because I thought that it would harm the person I was protecting.”

Dick’s throat felt dry. Leslie knew what she was doing. She was pushing more strongly now. Reminding Dick of a memory that he _didn’t want_ to remember. Because every time he did, it pulled him down into a rabbit hole of emotions…

*

_15-year-old Dick scoffed in annoyance when the muddied bandages around his hands turned an increasingly darker shade of red. Maybe Dick shouldn’t have smashed that window in retrospect. Or at least not with his bare fists. But he hadn’t been thinking at that time. Too pissed because his search for Zucco had come up empty again._

_Dick was currently camping out in an abandoned building in downtown Gotham. A number of kids had started occupying it a few years ago and no one had cared enough to throw them out. Since then it had become a meeting place for Gotham’s discarded children._

_Dick sat against a wall in the corner while some other kids were hanging out. Playing card games and useless shit like that._

_One of the kids turned around. He was around 12 or 13. Skinny with short black hair. His eyes landed on Dick. Taking him in with a frown._

_One of the kids whispered to him. Something about Dick being trouble and not worth it. But the boy just shrugged and stood up. He approached Dick. Stupid._

_“You should get that checked out”, the boy’s voice was dripping in a thick Gotham accent._

_One of his eyes was blackened. Dick wondered how this kid had ended up on Gotham’s streets. He was so small. Breakable. A kid like this shouldn’t be-_

_Dick stopped this train of thought before it could leave the station. Caring didn’t get you anything – except a whole lot of pain when the recipient turned on you._

_“Do I look like I want advice?”, Dick scowled._

_The boy crossed his arms. He was so small. Stupid of him to believe that he could pick a fight with Dick._

_“It is good advice”, the boy smiled, revealing a gap in his teeth._

_The kid was still losing his damn baby teeth._

_Dick rolled his eyes – deciding to allow for a smidge of mercy: “You better fuck off before my patience is out.”_

_“Geez, dude”, the boy said, “You have some anger issues. I’m not trying to fight you. I’m trying to help you – even though the other kids told me that was a bad idea because you are a dick.”_

_“Haha”, Dick’s voice was dripping with annoyance, “Never heard that one before.”_

_“Whatever”, the boy scoffed and turned around._

_Finally recognizing that Dick was a lost cause. And that nobody should waste their time on him._

_To Dick’s surprise, the boy dropped a piece of paper on the floor: “That’s the address of that Thompkins lady. She’s a doctor. She’s gonna patch your hands up before they get infected and fall off.”_

_Dick ignored the card, scoffing: “Guess gotta settle for dropped-off hands then.”_

_It wasn’t like he had the money for a doctor._

_  
“It’s a free-clinic, idiot.”_

_Something about the kid rubbed Dick the wrong way. He was infuriating with his smart mouth and his stupid pieces of advice. And Dick itched for a good fight. The tensions had flared up within him ever since his last lead on Zucco had turned out to be bullshit. Dick needed to find Zucco. Who was he if he couldn’t avenge his parents? But first he needed to get rid of some of that tension._

_Dick stood up, towering over the kid: “You have quite a mouth on you.”_

_The kid stood his ground: “You think I’m scared of you? I’ve seen worse.”_

_Dick balled his fists, gritting his teeth when his cut hands burned in pain._

_“Look: I wouldn’t care”, the boy said, “But I know from experience that cut hands fucking hurt. Leslie is a good person. She used to patch me up after my Dad- you know.“_

_So, abused kid then. Had probably run away. Standard Gotham story. Dick ignored the part of him that wanted to hear more details. That wanted to comfort Jason. Dick had learned to suppress it throughout the years._

_No one had comforted him. So, why should Dick do it for others?_

_“Do I look like I want to hear your fucking sob story?”, Dick said._

_“Do whatever, man. Tell Leslie that Jason sent you though if you go. She’ll like to know that I’m still alive.”_

_“Not much longer if you don’t fuck off.”_

_“You know: You are not as tough as you act”, Jason crossed his arms, “I know your type. You are like a wounded animal. You are just lashing out. Guys over there said that you used to be in Juvie. Some poor circus orphan they didn’t know where to put. I’m not scared of a damn circus kid.”_

_Dick should really smash the boy’s teeth in. He could already hear the other kids whisper. They were already losing respect for him. Dick couldn’t let this slide. Otherwise he would look like fair game. A punching bag for others to hit on. Dick had been the punching bag often enough. Until he had learned to punch back._

_But Jason’s words had shocked him. They had torn open all the wounds Dick tried so hard to forget. The snap of the rope and the cracks afterwards. The nights alone in his bunk in Juvie. Crying hadn’t made a difference. The Andersons- No. Dick wouldn’t think about the Andersons. Not because of some stupid kid._

_Jason smirked knowingly, going back to the other kids. They were looking at Jason with wide eyes. Admiring his bravery. Dick’s reputation had already taken a dent. Because of one little brat who had gotten through his skin._

_Dick scoffed, picking up the paper and his bag pack. He didn’t care anyway. It’s not like he wanted friends. Or cared what this little shit thought._

_The clinic was right in the middle of Park Row. Dick stood up trying to look as intimidating as possible. On his way out, he stole a cigarette from one of the scrawnier kids. The kid didn’t even dare to protest. At least, he was smart enough to recognize the right of the stronger._

_*_

_The free clinic was small and inconspicuous. Dick took a drag from the cigarette, blowing out the smoke. After years of smoking, he was finally used to the burn in his throat. It had made him throw up the first few times. But now it was pleasant._

_He was frozen on the spot. Wondering if he should trust this. The Jason-kid was scrawny. But scrawny kids were good liars. They had to be to survive. And Jason had taken Dick apart with his words._

_Dick was about to turn around. But the blood had completely soaked the bandages and started to drip onto the pavement._

_“Shit”, Dick muttered._

_He had no choice. Dick entered the clinic, cigarette in hand._

_A receptionist was sitting in the lobby. It was small and clean. Posters were hanging on the walls, advertising some doctor-stuff. With smiling people and all that shit._

_The receptionist’s smile froze when she saw Dick._

_“No smoking in the clinic”, she said._

_“Do I look like I care?”, Dick said._

_“You should care because otherwise Doctor Leslie won’t treat your hands.”_

_Dick thought about just turning around on the spot and never coming back. He hated adults. All of them. They always believed that they could order him around without doing anything good by themselves._

_“Whatever”, Dick threw the cigarette into the trash._

_The receptionist handed him a clipboard: “You can sit down in the waiting room. Just fill out this form please.”_

_  
“I thought it’s a free clinic.”_

_“We still would like to know who our patients are”, the receptionist said._

_She would definitely call the cops on Dick or those fuckers from CPS if he told them the truth._

_But his bandages were positively dripping now, so he had no choice. Dick sat down in the waiting room and looked at the form._

_Name:_

_Dick chewed on the back of the pencil. He wouldn’t write down his own name. He didn’t know what they would do with this information. Maybe they were lying, and they would still charge him with something. In that case, Dick knew exactly whose name he would write down…_

_Name: Evan Anderson_

_He continued with the address, the phone number… It had been a year since Evan - the douche - and his fucking wife Rachel had thrown Dick out. Dick still remembered all of their information. He always would._

_It was etched into his fucking brain because Dick had been so sure that he would need it permanently. And it almost had been. It should have been. But it hadn’t because people sucked. And so Dick was sitting here jotting down their contact information in an attempt at petty revenge._

_Maybe Jason was right. Maybe Dick was lashing out like some kicked dog. But at least he would bring down hell on the people who had kicked him._

_Dick stood up, walking towards the reception. He handed the clipboard to the woman._

_“The Doctor will see you in a bit”, she said, “It can take a while.”_

_Dick sighed but didn’t complain. It didn’t make a difference. He had nowhere to go anyways._

_He plopped down on the seat in the waiting room glaring at the other people to avoid any attempts at conversation. After like an hour, Dick felt his eyelids drop._

_…_

_“The Doctor is ready to see you now”, a voice said._

_The receptionist._

_Dick jolted. How long had he slept? He hadn’t even noticed that he had fallen asleep at all._

_He stood up, drowsily following the woman into the doctor’s office._

_Doctor Thompkins was sitting behind her desk._

_Dick halted, gritting his teeth and forcing out a: “Hello, Doctor Thompkins.”_

_She smiled: “Call me Leslie.”_

_Leslie indicated Dick to sit down on a gurney. The receptionist left._

_Leslie didn’t seem fazed when she looked at Dick’s hands. She asked for his name. Dick gave his fake one with a straight face._

_But Leslie frowned slightly, as if she knew that he was lying: “Can I see your hands?”_

_Dick reluctantly held out his hands to her. She unwrapped the bandages._

_“When did you sustain those injuries?”, Leslie asked._

_Dick shrugged: “Does it matter?”_

_“It does”, Leslie’s mouth thinned, “You can be glad that they aren’t infected yet.”_

_Dick sighed: “Yesterday, night.”_

_“How?”_

_Dick stayed quiet. He wasn’t about to tell this put-together Doctor lady that he had smashed a fucking window in because he was frustrated that he couldn’t find his parents’ killer._

_Leslie disinfected his hands. Dick gritted his teeth at the burning pain. Then, she started to stitch the wounds. Dick stayed quiet while she worked._

_“Do you have somewhere you can go?”, Leslie asked._

_And there it was. The uncomfortable question. The pretense that she cared._

_“Sure”, Dick scoffed, “You think I’m homeless or something?”_

_Leslie wasn’t fooled: “I recognize a street kid when I see them. You know that any responsible doctor should call CPS when they encounter a case like you?”_

_Dick narrowed his eyes: “What do you want? You threatening me?”_

_“I’m not”, Leslie’s face stayed focused on his hands, while she did another stitch, “I’m just concerned.”_

_“Yeah, right.”_

_“Do you think I would run a free-clinic if I wasn’t concerned about the people of Gotham?”, Leslie looked up, an earnestness in her eyes._

_Dick gritted his teeth. Staying quiet. He didn’t understand what she wanted._

_“I know some good people from CPS”, Leslie said, “They would get you a home.”_

_“I don’t want a fucking home.”_

_Dick only wanted revenge on the gangster that had killed his parents. And he would turn over every stone in Gotham to find Zucco. And once he had found him, Dick would make him pay. Revenge was the only thing he had left. His only purpose. He would get it even if it destroyed him._

_“Every child wants a home”, Leslie said._

_She was infuriating. Talking to him as if she understood what he felt. She reminded him of Jason in her smugness._

_“Listen”, the words tumbled out of Dick without thinking, “Maybe I want a fucking home. Maybe I don’t. It doesn’t matter.”_

_“Why?”, Leslie asked._

_Dick cursed internally. He bit his lip before he could spill even more of his deepest insecurities._

_Before he told Leslie that it didn’t matter because no one wanted him._

_And there it was: The pitiful glint in Leslie’s eyes. It made Dick want to gag. He didn’t want pity. He just wanted people to leave him alone._

_“Did someone hurt you?”, Leslie asked, “You can tell me. I can try to help you.”_

_“Can’t you just fix my hands?”, Dick said._

_Leslie’s mouth thinned. She was unhappy. But she continued stitching his wounds. It made Dick almost feel… bad. Because apparently, the Doctor was really trying to help._

_Leslie finished the stitches and gave him some painkillers. She looked at him, chewing on her lip._

_“I have no choice but to call CPS on you”, Leslie said, “It’s for your own benefit.”_

_“No”, Dick scrambled up trying to reach the door._

_But Leslie blocked it. Dick scowled. He thought about forcing her to make space. But he would be in deep shit if he hurt her. He couldn’t get to Zucco if he went to Juvie again._

_“I can’t let you leave this clinic.”_

_“I bet this is some kind of crime”, Dick said._

_“It’s not because you are a minor. And you are currently without supervision. And from the way you look you would need some supervision”, Leslie pulled out her phone._

_Dick’s stomach turned in dread with every number she typed in._

_“Don’t”, Dick screamed, feeling his voice break._

_Just the thought of ending up back there made him shiver in anxiety._

_Leslie halted. Her finger lingering over the call button._

_“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”_

_Dick felt desperation crash down on him. He had no choice. He suspected that this doctor wouldn’t let him leave. Typical. No one listened to him anyways._

_“Just please don’t”, Dick squeezed his eyes shut trying to keep the tears at bay._

_Just the thought of being taken back made anxiety coil up in his stomach. They would take him back to Juvie. Or some orphanage. Or some well-meaning foster family who would send Dick away again once they noticed how much work he was._

_Leslie seemed to notice his distress: “Sit down.”_

_Dick sat down. His chest was constricting. He felt like he couldn’t breathe._

_“You are having a panic attack”, Leslie said, “Try to breathe with me.”_

_And Dick did. He focused on Leslie’s breaths. They were like an anchor, keeping him from floating away._

_Leslie still had her phone in her hand. She seemed unsure. Torn. Dick needed to convince her._

_So, he forced the words out over the bitter taste in his mouth: “I spent a few years in Juvie. It wasn’t my fault. I know all people say that, but in my case, CPS didn’t know where else to put me. A couple got me out. They couldn’t get a kid naturally. So, they adopted me. With papers and all that jazz.”_

_“You have parents I can call?”, Leslie’s voice was soft._

_She looked relieved._

_Dick bit his lip. To his shame, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about this. But he had to give Leslie a reason not to call._

_“No. The wife- She got pregnant eventually. A miracle. And you don’t need an adopted kid if you can get a real one”, Dick pressed his eyes together more tightly._

_Just recounting it was humiliating. Dick had been living with the Andersons for half a year then. Evan had told Dick to pack looking slightly guilty while Dick collected his things._

_“What is it?”, Dick had asked, wondering why his adopted father acted so strangely._

_“A surprise”, Evan had looked at the clock - restless._

_Dick had been confused when the slimy social worker had turned up at the house. Evan had given him money._

_“You got rid of the papers?”, Evan had asked._

_“No trace”, the social worker counted his money, barely paying attention, “Officially, you never adopted that kid.”_

_Dick had frozen. Looked at Evan with wide eyes. Bag in hand._

_Evan had squeezed Dick’s shoulder: “I’m very sorry about this. But Rachel is pregnant. It was unexpected. We thought she couldn’t. And the house isn’t very big. You understand?”_

_Dick had been silent. Numb. Too overwhelmed to even respond._

_Evan had smiled, patting Dick’s shoulder: “You are a good kid. I’m sure someone else will take good care of you. I paid a few extra bucks to make sure that they don’t put you into Juvie again.”_

_The social worker had made an impatient sound. Evan had gently pushed Dick towards the door._

_“You’ll be fine, kid”, Evan had closed the door, shoving Dick out of his life without any warning._

_The realization had only hit Dick in the car: He was alone again. He had cried then. But it hadn’t made a difference. It never did._

_Leslie pulled him out of his thoughts: “You can’t un-adopt a child”,_

_“You can if you have enough money. And if you live in Gotham where no one gives a shit”, Dick pushed his eyes closed more tightly, refusing to let the tears fall._

_He hated that it still got to him this way. The Andersons didn’t give a fuck about him. They had their baby. A natural one that was a hundred percent theirs. They didn’t need a fuck-up like Dick. They had a real family now. Something that Dick could never have again._

_Dick tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder._

_“I’m sorry this happened to you”, Leslie said._

_This little act of compassion made Dick fall apart completely. He couldn’t keep the tears at bay. His body shaking from full-on sobs. It was humiliating. This whole day was humiliating. Dick hated it. He had never wanted to feel this helpless again. But one shitty day had torn down all his defenses again._

_Leslie didn’t seem to care. Dick tensed even more when she hugged him._

_“Y- You can’t call CPS on me”, Dick’s voice was breaking, “I can’t take it. Not again.”_

_“I won’t”, Leslie muttered, “I promise. I’m sorry that I pushed you.”_

_And Dick believed her. He took the tissue that Leslie gave him, wiping his face._

_Leslie frowned in concern: “You can stay here tonight if you want.”_

_Dick shook his head: “That’s a nice offer. But I can’t.”_

_  
He couldn’t get attached to anything or anyone. And he had to get to Zucco._

_“Do you know a guy named Zucco?”, Dick tried to sound innocent, while he was still an emotional mess, “I’m looking for him.”_

_“The mobster?”, Leslie said._

_“Maybe.”_

_Leslie shook her head: “I’m not telling you anything about him. You shouldn’t search him out.”_

_  
Dick gritted his teeth in annoyance. But he stood up. He would find Zucco eventually._

_Dick looked at his sneakers to hide his tear-stained face._

_Leslie nodded: “Don’t do anything reckless. You might not feel like it: But there are people who care.”_

_Dick stayed still. Not reacting. The sentiment was nice, but Leslie had no idea._

_Dick muttered: “Jason sent me by the way. He’s still alive so that’s good.”_

_Leslie’s face lighted up: “Thank you for telling me.”_

_Dick left without another word. He felt better and more horrible at the same time. He had completely broken down. But it had felt good to talk to someone who didn’t judge him. Who understood how fucked-up Dick’s situation was._

_The sentiment swung over to horrible when he got back to the occupied building and the door was closed. Dick tried to wrangle it open, but the other kids must have barricaded it._

_One of the older boys looked down at him from a two-story window: “Don’t even try, dick. We almost unanimously voted you out. You are nothing but trouble.”_

_Dick cursed under his breath. He could try to get in anyway. With his old acrobatics training, that window wasn’t as safe as the boy believed it to be. But it wasn’t worth the hassle._

_“Yeah, fuck you, too”, Dick turned around, leaving the building behind._

_Showing the damn prick the middle finger on his way out._

_Dick would sleep somewhere else. And then he would intensify his search for Zucco._

_One thought raced through his head though: They had almost unanimously voted him out. Who had been stupid enough to vote for Dick? Dick would have voted himself out if he had been in their position._

_But Dick shrugged. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing did._

*

Leslie snapped her finger’s in front of Dick’s face: “Earth to Grayson. You there?”

Dick flinched: “Sorry, Leslie. Just thinking about... our first meeting.”

Leslie turned more somber: “You’ve come a long way since then. I’m proud.”

“Meaning that I’m not a _dick_ anymore?”

Leslie’s mouth twitched in amusement: “You were. But you were also lost and kind of adorable.”

“You can be honest, Leslie: I was the devil in the form of a teenager.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself”, Leslie said.

Dick sighed: “I can’t call CPS on Damian. Or the police. Your plan worked. I can’t think of that day and then call CPS on some poor kid.”

“Do you really think I’m that sneaky?”

Dick scoffed in amusement: “The only one who is sneakier than you is Jason.”

Leslie sighed: “Tell him to call me by the way. I’m worried about him.”

“Me too”, Dick muttered, “He’s into some shady stuff.”

“You think he’s running with Black Mask again?”

“Nah”, Dick said, “He learned his lesson last time. I think he’s on his own nowadays.”

“I don’t know what is worse”, Leslie said.

Dick didn’t want to think about Jason possibly being in danger: “Is Damian fine to go?”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Hide him until I know what is going on.”

“I can release him as long as he is careful and takes the medicine.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

  
Dick opened the door to Damian’s room. The kid scowled at them.

  
“I demand to be released immediately”, Damian crossed his arms.

“That’s good because we are going on a secret trip”, Dick’s voice was dry.

Damian’s scowl intensified. Lovely kid. Dick had been prickly. But he hadn’t been _this_ prickly.

Right?

*

Bruce took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Steps neared. Jim Gordon frowned when he opened the door.

Bruce hoped that his assumptions were correct. A deeper internet search had revealed that Oracle was still active in this timeline. She had uncovered a ray of criminal activities over the years ranging from corrupt government activities to networks of human traffickers.

Bruce hoped that it really was Barbara. And not someone else. Oracle was the only one who could help him find Damian. Without her, Bruce didn’t have the resources to do so quickly enough. By the time he had squabbled together all the necessary equipment, Damian would most likely be far gone. If he wasn’t already.

“Mr. Wayne?”, Jim asked.

He didn’t look pleased. Again, Bruce was left wondering how much of an asshole the Bruce Wayne of this world was. Probably a very big one from Jim’s visible disdain.

“Hello, Jim”, he said in his Brucie-voice, “Is Barbara there? I would like to talk to her.”

Bruce hoped that Barbara was there. She didn’t live with her father anymore – obviously. But back in Bruce’s timeline she had visited her father every Thursday evening for dinner. The only night where Gordon left the precinct a bit early, with nothing short but an Arkham outbreak stopping him. Bruce hoped that this tradition of the Gordons still persisted in this time.

Gordon narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Probably wondering what rich, spoiled douche Brucie Wayne wanted with his daughter. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t trust this alternate version of himself with anyone.

“Dad?”, Barbara said from next-door.

“It’s Bruce Wayne. He’d like to talk to you”, Jim bit his lip.

But he stepped aside.

Barbara came into the hallway. Bruce frowned when he saw that she was in a wheelchair. He balled his fists in agitation. Had Joker still gotten to her in this timeline? How was that possible?

The Joker strictly defined himself in opposition to Batman. He was dependent upon him as a nemesis, only messing with Gotham to play a sick game. There was no reason why he should have gotten to Barbara. And if he had gotten to Barbara, had he also gotten to Jason?

“It’s fine, Dad”, Barbara smiled, “Can you finish the salad?”

“Sure”, Jim kissed Barbara on the forehead, “But call me if you need me.”

Barbara wheeled herself into the dining room. Bruce didn’t even offer his help. Barbara Gordon would always be stubbornly independent, no matter in which timeline.

He sat down opposite from her.

Bruce didn’t beat around the bush: “I need help.”

She frowned: “From me? A librarian? I can recommend you some good books, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s less the librarian-part and more the Oracle-part I need.”

Barbara tensed. She lost her relaxed demeanor, cutting through Bruce with her gaze: “How does ditzy billionaire Bruce Wayne know Oracle’s identity?”

Bruce thought about telling her the truth. But this wasn’t the time and place. And he didn’t want to destroy Barbara’s perception of herself. She would question her whole life if she knew. The knowledge was Bruce’s cross to bear.

“Ditzy billionaire Bruce Wayne has his resources. But know that I don’t intend to harm you with my knowledge. I have tremendous respect for what you do. The city needs heroes like the Birds of Prey.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes: “Enough buttering up, Mr. Wayne. What do you want?”

“I’m looking for a thirteen-year-old boy called Damian al Ghul. A few days ago, he came to my home because he thought that I was his father. His mother is dangerous, and he tried to find protection with me. But I sent him away. It was one of the most stupid things I’ve ever done.”

Barbara looked up in recognition at the mention of ‘al Ghul’. She knew more than she let on.

“And are you his father?”, she asked.

“I am”, Bruce said, “He’s my son. And I failed him. I want to do right by him.”

Barbara was thinking, absent-mindedly pushing up her glasses: “So, he is trying to redeem himself?”

“He does. He’s a good kid.”

Barbara paled a bit. She definitely knew more than she let on.

“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Wayne”, she said, “I’ll contact you once I have a lead.”

  
“Thank you”, Bruce stood up.

Barbara followed him to the door, nodding him goodbye.

Bruce took a deep breath after he had left the house. It hurt to have all of his allies treat him like a stranger. Maybe he had depended more on them than he had realized.

At least, Barbara was doing fine. She was still paralyzed for an unknown reason, but she seemed to be dealing well with her disability. The Barbara of Bruce’s timeline had always said that the Joker had taken nothing essential from her. That she was living a complete life.

Apparently, this Barbara felt the same way and Bruce couldn’t be happier for her.

Bruce felt pride swell in his chest when he thought about her still being a hero in this timeline. She had stepped up even when Batman hadn’t.

*

“What did he want?”, Barbara’s father asked as soon as Wayne left the flat.

“He offered me a job at WE. Apparently, he has heard about my computer skills.”

“And?”

“I rejected him of course. I don’t need to work for some fancy company. I like my job.”

“That’s my daughter”, Jim smiled.

Barbara smiled back, already recalling everything she knew about the al Ghuls. It was more than strange that Gotham’s playboy Brucie Wayne was connected with the League of Asssassins.

After dinner, Barbara returned to the Clocktower. Her chest twisted at the thought of the al Ghul-kid. The Birds had really dropped the ball on that one. Huntress had always been a loose cannon. But she had gone too far this time. Almost killing a kid? Unacceptable, even if said kid was known as a remorseless killing machine and on his way to become one of the biggest supervillains alive.

Barbara sighed, wondering how things may have worked out if Dinah had been there with Stephanie and Selina that night instead of Helena. But of course she had chosen that night as date night with that buffoon Green Arrow. Barbara still didn’t understand what Dinah saw in that guy.

Damian was definitely injured. And alone. Barbara hoped that it wasn’t too late and that he wasn’t lying dead in some alley.

She neared her workstation putting on her headset: “Oracle to Birds of Prey.”

“Here, O”, Dinah said.

“Hi”, Steph said excitedly.

She had only joined the Birds a few months ago. Babs had opted to recruit her instead of having her run around on her own as Spoiler. These amateur vigilante gigs could quickly turn sour. Barbara knew. Oh how painfully she had found out…

One faulty rope and her life had changed forever. Barbara was happy now as Oracle. She was making a difference. But it had been rocky especially at the start. Barbara wanted to keep Stephanie from going through the same pain. You couldn’t just go out on your own as a vigilante – especially without powers. That was just asking to get hurt or worse.

“Here”, Helena simply said.

Selina wasn’t out tonight. Her knee was still recovering from the encounter with Damian.

“I want all of you on the lookout for the al Ghul-kid”, Barbara said, “We screwed up on that.”

“More like Huntress screwed up”, Dinah said.

“Why is it always me?”, Huntress said.

“Because it is always you”, Dinah sounded angry, “You can’t let your rage out on people.”

“I can, if these people are little psychopaths. That al Ghul is dripping with blood. A lost cause. The quicker we get rid of him the better.”

“Apparently, he isn’t”, Barbara said, “I got new intel. He is trying to get away from his family.”

“Oh”, at least, Huntress sounded guilty.

“Stay on the lookout for him”, Barbara said, “I’m looking for him on CCTV.”

“We’ll find him”, Spoiler said, sounding eternally optimistic, “He’s a kid with a sword. Can’t be that hard to find.”

“It’s a katana, Spoiler”, Huntress said.

Barbara could hear the scowl that was etched onto Helena’s face. Sometimes, Huntress was more trouble than she was worth. Babs had hoped that recruiting her for the Birds would soften her edges. With limited results until now.

Hopefully, they would find Damian soon. Barbara typed furiously trying to find a sign of Damian. No success. She wouldn’t forgive herself if something happened to the kid because of the Birds’ mistake.

The Birds were her team. And any mistake they made was automatically on Barbara herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did totally not google 'Can you un-adopt a child?' for this...  
> Poor Dick.


	4. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick brings Damian to his flat. Needless to say: Damian is not impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m late but I’m here. I had to do an assignment that was… something else to put it nicely. But I’m rid of it now so I can finally do fun stuff again. Like writing about Dick and Dami not getting along… but also kind of bonding?

Dick opened the door to his flat.

“Your security is pathetic, Grayson”, Damian looked at the flimsy excuse for a lock.

He wore a hoodie and a pair of jeans that was far too large for him. Doctor Thompkins had lent him some clothes to help disguise him.

Dick forced a smile on his face: “You see, Dami. It’s perfect because it is so pathetic. No one will think to look.”

“Don’t ever call me that again”, Damian glared at him.

“You are adorable. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Damian seemed taken aback. But he balled his fists: “I demand that you take this statement back immediately.”

“Like I said”, Dick smiled, “Adorable. Let’s get inside before you wake up all of my neighbors.”

Dick entered with more energy than necessary. He may be rusty, but the performer was still hidden there somewhere.

“So”, he pointed at his living room with the kitchenette in the corner, “That’s the living room. And it’s really special because it’s living room and kitchen in one. Double magic.”

He pushed a pizza carton to the side on his way to the bathroom. He really would have cleaned if he knew that he would have a kid living here.

“Bathroom here”, Dick opened the door.

  
“There are cockroaches in your sink, Grayson”, Damian sounded unimpressed.

“Yeah”, Dick said, “They came with the flat. They are nice if you get to know them.”

Damian shook his head, mumbling about what a pathetic idiot Dick was. Dick suppressed a sigh. This was the kid he was sticking his neck out for? Maybe it was the universe’s way of punishing Dick for his own punk phase. But Dick wouldn’t leave Damian behind no matter how patronizing he was. The kid needed help, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“And the bedroom”, Dick opened the door.

It was as big as a broom closet.

“I’ll make it ready for you”, Dick said, “I’ll take the couch.”

Damian nodded and stood there stiffly. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to do.

Dick walked to the couch and pushed up a pile of unwashed clothes. His flat wasn’t _that_ messy. He just didn’t have time to clean it. Not after spending the whole day at work.

“You can sit down and watch some cartoons or something.”

Damian sat down completely with his back completely straight. He turned on the TV settling on a nature documentary.

“I’m not a kid, Grayson”, he said.

“Of course you aren’t”, Dick said, changing the bedding.

Damian may act stuck up. But he wasn’t different from the other kids Dick supervised. They all believed that they were adults because they had been forced to grow up far too quickly. If no one took care of you, you had to take care of yourself.

But Dick knew how taxing it was. It wore you down until you only lived for the current day. Dick had his days where he laid in his bed for hours wondering why he even bothered to get up. There was no one to get up for. The kids liked him – well some of them did. But they would always get a new social worker. There was nothing special about Dick. No one would miss him if Dick just decided to- No. Don’t go there.

Dick had sworn to himself that he would do something good with his life. That he wouldn’t let himself be worn down. But it was damn hard when no one _stayed_. Dick wondered what was wrong with him that apparently made people leave him after a time. After Dick became just the slightest inconvenience to them.

“-yson. Grayson”, Damian said.

“What?”, Dick blinked.

“You were staring into nothing like some airhead.”

“Don’t mind me, Dami”, Dick finished changing the bedding and laid out some clothes for Damian that he had accidentally thrown into the dryer once, “Just thinking about meaningless stuff. You want something to eat? I have a variety of options ranging from cereal to cereal.”

Damian scrunched up his face. But he just nodded. Dick prepared a bowl for both of them and sat down next to Damian. The documentary was soothing. Something about animals in the Brazilian jungle.

Damian leaned forward watching the documentary with keen interest. He threw side glances at Dick as if he was unsure about showing passion for anything that wasn’t violently murdering people.

“You like animals?”, Dick said.

Damian nodded: “I’ve always wanted to eat vegetarian, but Mother didn’t allow me to. She said it would stunt my growth as a warrior and that it was a childish indulgence.”

“It’s good that cereal is vegetarian, then.”

They watched the documentary in silence.

After a while, Damian said: “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“Cat or dog?”

“Both. And some more”, Damian bit his lip, “Do you think I’ll ever get them?”

Dick looked at the kid, smiling softly: “I’m sure you will. That’s pretty attainable for a dream. You could always live on a farm.”

Damian scrunched up his face: “Don’t be silly, Grayson. An al Ghul is destined to more than moving onto a mere farm.”

“Sure, kid”, Dick’s voice was dry.

Damian was still pricklier than a hedgehog. But for some reason Dick felt more at peace than he had for a while. Sitting next to Damian watching the documentary. The buttery voice was talking about a waterfall. The sound of the falling water was incredibly soothing.

Hiding Damian was a gigantic risk. And Dick still didn’t know what he was doing. But it was the right thing. He was doing something meaningful.

Dick dozed off, his head landing on the side rest.

“You can sleep, Grayson”, Damian said, “I’ll protect this pathetic establishment from attackers.”

“Thank you, Dami”, Dick said, before nodding off.

*

Damian watched Grayson closely. He seemed uncomfortable. His neck was in a crooked position leaning against the side rest. Damian did not trust Grayson. He knew too little about him. Grayson had to have some ulterior motive for taking Damian in. No one did anything out of the kindness of their hearts.

He was waiting for the moment when Grayson would show his true colors. But Damian could be quicker. He took his katana out of his backpack and held the blade to the sleeping Grayson’s neck. He didn’t stir. Damian snorted. Pathetic, gullible civilians.

It would be sensible to kill Grayson before he enacted whatever plan he had. Damian could use his measly flat as a base. But Damian’s hand was trembling. He had sworn to be better. And Grayson hadn’t threatened Damian. Still. Trust was for the weak. Trust would get you killed. Trust-

  
“You wanna take the sword away, Damian?”, Grayson opened his eyes.

“It’s a katana”, Damian growled.

How had Grayson noticed him? Damian had been completely silent. His grandfather would have whipped him with a cane for his carelessness.

Grayson seemed to notice Damian’s confusion: “I spent some time in Juvie. A lot of time actually. You need to sleep lightly to ensure that no one stabs you in the back.”

“Juvie?”, Damian had never heard of this expression.

“Juvenile Detention Center. It’s basically a prison for children and teenagers.”

Damian frowned. Another reason to distrust Grayson. Despite his foolish demeanor, he had a criminal history.

Grayson stayed still, apparently not fazed by Damian’s blade: “I understand that you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either. Gotham social workers are generally scumbags.”

Damian clenched his hand around his katana: “What do you want from me?”

“I want to help you, Damian.”

“No. What do you _really_ want?”

Grayson sat up. He looked into Damian’s eyes. Damian’s katana stayed at his neck.

“I know what it’s like to be alone in Gotham”, Grayson said.

“I’m not alone.”

“Leslie said you were found with old, worn clothes. You were on the streets for a while.”

“I can survive on my own.”

“But you don’t _have_ _to_ , Damian”, Grayson leaned forward.

He looked like he wanted to reach out towards Damian. But he held himself back. Good decision.

  
Damian pushed his katana harder against Grayson’s neck drawing some blood. Grayson didn’t flinch. But he didn’t attack Damian either.

Damian frowned. He waited for Grayson to scold him. But Grayson was just waiting for Damian’s reaction. They were staring at each other in a silent battle of wits. At least, it was a battle for Damian.

Damian pulled back his katana without another word. He entered Grayson’s sleeping quarters. The man was still an enigma. One that Damian usually wouldn’t care to solve but was forced to out of his… circumstances.

“Sleep well, Damian”, Grayson said.

Damian stayed quiet and closed the door behind himself. He laid down on the bed his eyes fixed to the ceiling. They followed a particularly egregious crack in the material.

Damian couldn’t allow himself to sleep. He was in a stranger’s territory. And strangers were enemies – as Damian’s grandfather had always said. He would urge Damian to slid Grayson’s throat in his sleep.

Damian doubted though that Grayson would harm him. The man still wasn’t trustworthy. But he didn’t seem interested in outright violence.

Damian barely noticed himself slipping away. The exhaustion of the last days and his wounds catching up with him.

*

_Damian had had this dream several times now. It had come to him several nights a week. Nagging at him. Not leaving him alone._

_It always started in the middle of the Indian jungle. The sounds of the insects and birds were muted. They didn’t matter to Damian. He was hunting for larger prey._

_Cassandra Cain. The girl had escaped from her father and was a nuisance for both him and the League of Assassins. She struck quickly – dismantling parts of the League – and vanishing again._

_She was almost impossible to track. But the League had caught a rare trail of her. And Mother had sent Damian to the Indian jungle with the clear instruction that Cassandra was to be eliminated._

_Damian had taken the mission with a sense of honor and pride. He would prove himself to his family. Killing the Cain-girl would be his full inauguration into adulthood. She would be a worthy opponent to take down._

_Damian followed his map. He was close to her hideout. He drew his katana – ready to sneak in and strike._

_A sudden coldness at his throat made him halt. Damian looked down at a knife. A silent presence was behind him. Cain had snuck up on him. And Damian hadn’t noticed a sliver._

_Damian’s heart raced. It was a question of life or death now. He tried to knock the knife out of her hand, but Cain seemed to know Damian’s move before Damian could make it. She gripped his wrist and pinned him against a nearby tree – knife still against his throat._

_It was the first time that Damian got a real look at her. She seemed small. Only a few heads taller than Damian himself. Her black hair was cut short and stood askew. Dirt covered her face. Her appearance should seem undignified and pathetic. But Damian could see the graceful predator underneath. It was this moment that he knew he stood no chance._

_“End it”, Damian raised his head like a true al Ghul._

_Cassandra had ended dozens of other assassins. She would have no problem ending him._

_A least – she shouldn’t._

_But something flickered in her eyes. Something Damian didn’t recognize. It bothered him until this day because he – for the life of him – couldn’t figure out what it was._

_She ripped the knife off his throat._

_And Damian took the opportunity. He aimed for her throat. A precise strike that would have ended anyone else. She moved faster than Damian could see and pinned him against the tree again._

_Damian raised his shin. Sure that she would end him after she had hesitated the first time. Cassandra raised her blade. But she halted. Confusion on her face. As if she had trouble to understand herself what she was feeling._

_She simply shook her head and picked up Damian’s katana. She strapped it to her back._

_Damian’s heart was racing and to his shame he noticed that his knees were shaking. He felt weak. Like a insect in someone’s hand. Defenseless. Waiting to be squashed. Had Damian’s victims felt like this, too, before he had ended them?_

_Cassandra halted and turned around one last time. Her face was soft – almost open – when she looked at Damian. She ripped a finger over her own throat and pointed at Damian. Then, she shook her head._

_This, Damian could understand. She was sparing him._

_He gritted his teeth: “I don’t want you to spare me. Kill me like the others but don’t besmirch my honor with this pathetic display of- whatever you are trying to show.”_

_But Cain didn’t listen. Damian was sure that she didn’t even understand him. She vanished into the jungle. Silently. As if she had never been there. The only evidence of her existence was Damian’s missing katana._

_Damian had no choice but to return to the League’s helicopter. He should have felt slighted in his honor. Damian had lost fair and square. But Cassandra hadn’t killed him. Damian was in her debt now. And Damian hated being in anyone’s debt. An al Ghul stood for himself._

_But Damian was also confused. He didn’t understand. Why had Cassandra spared him? It went against every fiber of his assassin training – and hers, too._

_David Cain was brutal. Even the League thought of his methods as inhumane. But Cassandra had been very human. Too human. Damian didn’t know what to think of her._

_And there was something else. Doubt. Cassandra had spared him. Damian had never spared anyone. What did this say about each of them?_

_Damian shook his head, deciding to focus back on the issue at hand: The disappointment he would face at home._

_Damian reached the helicopter. Mother was there. Waiting to see if her son was worthy._

_Damian forced his chin to stay up as he told her of his failure. Talia’s face fell in disappointment. She backhanded him without another word and indicated the pilot to fly._

_Damian sat there. Holding his cheek. Still thinking about the look in Cassandra’s eyes…_

*

Damian jerked up in his bed, needing a few moments to orient himself. He was in Grayson’s flat. It must be early morning. The room was slowly filling with sunlight.

Damian stood up, peaking into the living room. Grayson was asleep. So, Damian closed the door again. He absentmindedly started doing his morning stretches until he noticed the pain in his shoulder. Damian scrunched up his face. But injuries didn’t keep a true warrior from fighting. So, he continued through the pain. Every stroke of pain brought him closer to his grandfather’s legacy. And every stroke of pain distracted him from the glint in Cassandra’s eyes.

It had been that look that had haunted Damian. Made him flee across the whole globe in search for a new perspective. Answers. He had hoped to get the answers from his father. But Bruce Wayne wasn’t a wise man.

A surprised voice ripped him out of his concentration. Grayson had opened the door.

“What are you doing?”, he put his hand on Damian’s uninjured shoulder.

“Training”, Damian brushed off his hand.

“You are injured.”

“A true warrior doesn’t stop.”

“A true warrior recognizes that he still needs that shoulder later in life”, Grayson seemed unimpressed.

“My shoulder is strong enough to endure it”, Damian scowled.

He continued doing the stretches ignoring the pain flaring up in his shoulder.

Grayson crossed his arm.

Damian felt sweat on his forehead: “Fine. I’m taking a break to not cause you distress, Grayson.”

Grayson beamed: “Thank you, Dami.”

Damian scoffed: “Don’t think too highly of yourself, Grayson.”

“Will do”, Grayson stepped into the living room, “Time to enact our plan. But first cereal. I swear that I also eat other things, usually. But you don’t get much time to do groceries when you’ve got an assassin child to protect.”

“You think yourself capable of protecting me, Grayson?”

Grayson ignored Damian’s snide remark, babbling on about how he was going to skip work today for Damian’s sake.

He fixed two bowls for them while Damian stayed at the table. Grayson sat across from him. It was quiet. Peaceful. A taste of a simple life that Damian had never had. Damian didn’t _hate_ it. Not that he would admit it to Grayson.

Grayson shoveled down his cereal and dumped the bowl into the sink without looking.

Then, he pulled out a phone with a cracked screen. He dialed a number.

“Hey, boss”, Grayson said with an overly scratchy voice, “I came down with something today. Probably got it from Johnson.”

“…”

Grayson faked a cough: “Yeah. I know. You’re detracting it from my salary.”

“…”

  
Grayson rolled his eyes at Damian while the person on the other side talked.

“Have a nice day”, Grayson said in an overly cheery voice.

He ended the call.

“Fuck you, too”, he mumbled to himself.

He looked at Damian who was still eating his cereal as dignified as possible.

“I need to know everything”, Grayson’s limbs seemed restless.

His fingertip patted onto the table. Grayson was always in motion.

“Everything is not very precise.”

“What’s your deal? Where are you from? All that stuff.”

Damian cleared his throat, raising himself to his whole height: “I am the son of Thalia al Ghul and heir to the Demon, who is my Grandfather.”

“Yeah. You mentioned that one already. Care to elaborate?”

“My Grandfather is the leader of the League of Assassins. A network that operates globally but is located on Infinity Island in the Indian Ocean.”

Grayson blinked, looking dumbstruck: “OK. So, you kill people? You are like a child soldier?”

Damian bit back a snarky retort. As much as he hated it, he required Grayson’s assistance.

“I was genetically modified and trained from birth to become the ultimate assassin. Only the worthy can be the heir of the great Ra’s al Ghul. I committed my first kill with three and was always top of my class. I am destined to become the greatest fighter the world has ever seen.”

Grayson looked at Damian with wide eyes, taking the information in. It must overwhelm his imbecilic brain.

“But you left?”, Grayson asked.

Damian’s throat felt dry. He forced himself to speak.

An al Ghul didn’t back down: “I do not agree with certain moral ideals of my family.”

Grayson’s face softened: “You don’t want to kill.”

Damian shook his head: “I- I had an experience that changed my outlook. She changed my outlook.”

“She?”

“Cassandra Cain”, Damian said.

“Who?”

Damian snorted: “Only an imbecile doesn’t know of the daughter of David Cain and Lady Shiva.”

“An imbecile or a struggling social worker who just wants to make a living in Gotham”, Grayson smiled.

“I see no difference”, Damian raised his chin.

“That’s cold, Dami”, but Grayson continued smiling.

“Cassandra was trained to be an assassin as well. But, apparently, she could not become one as her conscience burdened her. So, she escaped and vanished. She resisted against the League and her father. Until Mother found her trail in India. I was tasked to hunt her down to be fully inaugurated into the League.”

Damian stopped.

“Did you kill her?”, Grayson frowned.

“I- I lost”, Damian balled his fists, “Cassandra is a worthy fighter to lose to.”

Not that it had been much of a fight. Cassandra had not given Damian one.

“But you are still here.”

“She spared me”, Damian said, “I don’t understand why she did it. She could have just slaughtered me.”

Grayson stayed quiet, frowning.

Damian’s fists were shaking: “There was this look in her eyes. A glimmer that I don’t understand. She probably didn’t understand it either.”

Damian felt his demeanor slip. He still didn’t fully understand Cassandra’s actions. But he felt a certain need to… honor her empathy. A promise from one warrior to another.

Grayson reached for Damian’s hand. He looked at Damian with a softness in his eyes. A similar glimmer that had been in Cassandra’s.

“It’s mercy, Damian”, Grayson said.

Damian frowned. _Mercy_. The word felt strangely accurate. Right. And it had come out of Grayson’s mouth.

Damian cleared his dry throat: “I ran away. I tried to find my father. But he sent me away.”

“Who is your father?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

Grayson stared at Damian more closely – probably comparing him to Wayne. It was unnerving.

“Say something, Grayson”, Damian collected all of his authority.

“Wow. Bruce Wayne fathered an assassin child. Who would have thought? The guy who has never woken up before noon in his life.”

“Well”, Damian crossed his arms, “He rejected me. And so I sought to regroup in the city when a group of vigilantes ambushed me.”

Grayson frowned: “The Birds of Prey?”

“I do not know the name of this group.”

“A girl in purple, a scary lady with a crossbow, a cat burglar with a whip and a woman whose voice can shatter glass? And their leader is some big brother-like hacker.”

“This description seems adequate.”

“Holy shit”, Grayson said, “What did you do to piss the Birds of Prey off?”

“I may have killed someone for daring to insult my honor.”

“That’s not a good reason to kill someone.”

Damian shrugged: “He was a degenerate.”

“OK”, Grayson seemed overwhelmed.

The dark circles under his eyes stood out even starker than usual and he ran his hand through his hair.

“You need a safe place”, Grayson said.

“There is no safety from the League.”

“Maybe we can ask some of these heroes. The Birds or-“

“The heroes won’t accept me.”

“OK”, Grayson took a deep breath.

He stood up, pacing.

“Wayne is fucking rich. But he won’t help”, he continued muttering to himself.

Damian grew worried about Grayson’s mental state.

“I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?”, Grayson said.

Damian hesitated: “I thought that Cassandra might help me.”

Grayson halted. Thinking.

“She was the only one to show me… mercy in my life. Maybe she could do it again. And she seemed lonely.”

Damian remembered her disheveled hair. The animalistic movements. Cassandra was a shadow. It kept her safe. But it also isolated her from any contact.

  
“How do you plan to find her?”, Grayson said.

“I was brought up by Thalia al Ghul and the Demon’s Head himself. I am able to-“

“Alright”, Grayson said, “I know the speech. But you don’t have the means to leave the country.”

Damian gritted his teeth: “I have not planned for an elongated journey.”

“OK”, Grayson ran his hand through his hair, “We can work with that. We’re gonna need fake passports and I can use my savings to-“

“We?”

“Do you think I’m gonna let a thirteen-year-old travel the world all by himself?”

“It is too dangerous Grayson. The League is after me.”

“Well, I’ll have to deal with it because I’m not leaving you on your own”, Grayson’s eyes flared with determination, “And I may need to leave the country anyway… because of reasons.”

In this moment, Damian knew that he couldn’t keep Grayson away. The idiot would get himself killed to protect Damian. Something that not even his mother or grandfather would be willing to do. Al Ghuls generally fended for themselves.

Grayson seemed like a guy who had nothing to lose – which seemed dangerous in itself.

“Don’t worry”, Grayson flashed Damian a smiled, “I know a guy.”

He dialed another number putting the conversation on speaker: “Hey, Jay. It’s Dickhead. You still in the business of printing flyers?”

The voice on the other side sounded tired: “Dickhead? Do you know how early it is?”

“It’s a great day. The sun is shining, and the birds are singing and-“

“Yeah. Put your optimism somewhere where I can’t see it. Haven’t heard from you in a while. What do you need flyers for, Mr. Social Worker?”

Grayson’s face lightened up while talking to Jason. Damian hadn’t seen him so relaxed. They seemed familiar with each other.

“I have a kid who needs some.”

“Oh shit”, Jay said, “I don’t even want to know. I’m getting all the shit I need. Give me three days.”

“How much do I owe yo-“

“Shove it, Dickhead. If anything, I owe you.”

Grayson fiddled with his fingertips: “Jason, you don’t owe me anything.”

“You gave up all your savings to pay my fucking bail.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just money.”

“I know how much it meant to you. You’ve always told me how much you hate Gotham. How much you want to travel the world”, Jason said.

“I may be able to, now.”

“What did you get yourself into?”, Jason sounded concerned.

“You’ll see.”

*

Damian spent the next few days at Grayson’s. Staying in the tiny flat so that no one could spot him. Grayson’s friend – Todd - indeed came after three days with fake passports.

He looked like someone Grayson would interact with. Todd was in his early twenties and his clothes were as torn up as Grayson’s. He pulled a cigarette out of his leather jacket and smoked in the flat without hesitation.

“Your place looks like a dump, Dickhead”, he looked around barely acknowledging Damian.

Damian scowled at him. He didn’t like this Todd-person.

“So”, Todd looked at Damian, “That’s the kid you are risking your neck for?”

Grayson was rummaging around in his shelves looking for cereal: “You know me. I can’t resist a sad orphan.”

“I’m not an orphan”, Damian protested, “I am the heir of al Ghul and Wayne.”

Todd shrugged: “You are on your own. That’s an orphan in my books.”

He sat down on the kitchen table: “You got a beer?”

Grayson pulled a bottle out of his empty fridge after he had gotten the cereal. He put it in front of Todd.

“Damn. You bought that just for me?”, Todd said.

Grayson shrugged and plopped down next to him: “I needed to get you some payment for the… _flyers_.”

“You don’t owe me anything”, Todd suddenly sounded very serious, “If anything, I owe you.”

“Really, Jason. It’s not a big d-“

“Don’t end that sentence, Dickhead. We know how much of a big deal that money was for you.”

Grayson shrugged and scratched the back of his neck – embarrassed: “I would do it again. I don’t regret paying your bail, Jay.”

“I’ll pay it back to you eventually. I have some things going on that are paying quite good.”

“I hope you aren’t working for Mask again.”

“I learned my lesson”, Todd looked down at the bottle, “Mask doesn’t have your back – not to forget that he is a scumbag. I was only caught because he doesn’t care about his goons. No. I make some good money forging _flyers_.”

“I don’t like it”, Grayson said.

Todd scoffed: “You are one to talk, Grayson. You know that they could basically charge you with abducting a kid?”

“I’m not abducting him”, Grayson stared at the table, “I’m trying to keep him safe.”

“I know that. But do the cops know that?”

Dick sighed.

“I know. I’m taking a risk. But Damian and I are leaving the country as soon as his shoulder is halfway healed. We have to find someone. Cassandra Cain. She could help us.”

“You are throwing everything away for a kid you barely know.”

Grayson looked tired, dark circles under his eyes: “Let’s not kid ourselves, Jay. I have nothing here except you. And my career is about to implode anyway.”

“What did you do?”, Todd bit his lip, looking alarmed.

“I _may_ have collected some evidence on my dirty coworkers, and they _may_ be suspicious that I’m on their trail.”

Todd paled: “Shit. Fuck.”

A row of profanities that were suitable to Todd’s level followed.

“It’s not that bad, Jay.”

“Your fucking coworkers supply orphans to Mask, Mad Hatter, Professor Pyg and all the other sick fucks who take advantage of helpless children. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“I know”, Dick said, “I have the evidence. And I can’t just let it continue.”

Todd paced around the cramped room: “I understand why you are doing this. Don’t get me wrong. If I could change something, I already would have done it. But no one is going to believe you.”

“I have the evidence”, Grayson insisted, “All of it. It’s undeniable. Photos. Reports. Everything. There has to be someone good who could do something with it.”

“In Gotham?”, Todd snorted, “Forget it, Dickie. You should better get rid of that stuff before they find it with you.”

Grayson sighed: “The Commissioner may be able to do something good with it.”

“And they are just going to let someone like you talk to him?”

Grayson’s face reddened. He glared at Todd: “Thank you for reminding me, Jay. Because that was what I needed. Someone telling me what a pathetic, little piece of shit I am and that no matter what I do no one will ever listen to me.”

Todd pinched the bridge of his nose: “I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”

Grayson sighed, shoulders slumping forward: “I do.”

“Then, promise me that you drop it. You got enough trouble following you because of the kid.”

“Damian comes first. He’ll need a few weeks until his shoulder his healed. Then, we’ll do our next step.”

Todd nodded. Satisfied.

  
“You got the passports”, Todd walked towards the door, “But promise me you’ll at least call before you leave.”

“I will”, Grayson said.

Damian frowned. He waited until Todd was gone.

“You didn’t promise him that you would drop it”, Damian said.

Grayson smiled: “Because I won’t. I’ll give it a few weeks. Act like normal until your shoulder is healed. And before we flee the country, I’ll try to get it to Gordon. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

Damian looked at Grayson. Really looked at him for the first time. His dedication to this impossible cause was stupid but also strangely admirable. Damian could at least respect Grayson’s tenacity. In everything else, the fool was unremarkable though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Jason is finally here for reals. I couldn’t not write an AU where Dick and he are close.
> 
> And a sliver of Cass. I’ve been reading her Batgirl series and it’s really good. A different kind of book because Cass does not speak much. She says a lot just with her actions. I tried to capture that here.


	5. Oracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oracle investigates. Dick tries to get his evidence to the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams week is over! *rejoices in glee*  
> So, this week it is the time of the Birds. Oracle is doing some investigating. I’m quite excited about this chapter because a lot happens.

Barbara was frustrated. She had spent the last few weeks looking for Damian al Ghul – without much success. Scanning for him in the surveillance network had not given any results. He had probably covered his head and face. So, currently Oracle was going through hours of traffic cameras hoping to just catch a sliver that was useful.

Barbara had traced Damian to an apartment building where he had collapsed after his confrontation with the Birds. And there were recordings of Damian’s injured body being loaded into a car by multiple neighbors. An old black Ford. Standard model. Barbara had followed its trajectory through the traffic cameras into one of the seedier parts of Gotham near Park Row. But she had lost its exact stopping point. This part of Gotham wasn’t well-known for its good infrastructure.

Barbara sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. So, instead she listened in on the Birds. Canary and Huntress where patrolling together while Catwoman was with Spoiler. Their dots were moving over a map of the city. It was always reassuring for Oracle to watch them.

Spoiler was chatting about all the waffle places she still needed to try out.

_“-We could go after patrol”,_ Spoiler said.

_“A lady has to keep up her figure”,_ Catwoman said, “ _I can’t go for waffles with you every day.”_

_“Come on”,_ Spoiler insisted, _“All this flippy parkour stuff has to count for something.”_

_  
_Catwoman sounded amused: _“Fine. As long as you pay.”_

Spoiler made an exasperated sound. She sounded slightly out of breath: _“Didn’t you steal that diamond last week? You could easily-“_

Catwoman’s dot halted: _“Wait. There is something off with that bank.”_

_“You think it’s a robbery?”_

There was silence for a while.

But then Selina said: _“Definitely. It’s Two Face with his goons. Of course it’s Harvey. The guy has no finesse. Wait here. I’m going to take care of it.”_

_“But-“,_ Steph protested.

_“Don’t argue with me”,_ Selina said, “ _Two Face is on a different level. You’ve learned a lot, but you aren’t ready.”_

Steph sounded annoyed, mumbling, _“Great. Treat me like a kid again.”_

_“Birds?”,_ Selina said, “ _Do you read me?”_

_“We’re coming as backup”,_ Dinah said.

_“I’m her backup”,_ Steph said.

_“Stay back, Spoiler”,_ Barbara looked at her screens trying to find something to distract Steph – because otherwise she would definitely follow Selina against all warnings.

_“I have a different task for you – just as important. I’ve been tracing the van that moved the al Ghul-kid. I lost it near Park Row. I can’t follow it anymore because there are no cameras. Catwoman, do you know a place near Park Row where someone would bring an injured kid?”_

No one knew Park Row better than Catwoman. It was her turf. Selina had survived there on her own for years.

Selina seemed to think for a bit _: “Doctor’s Leslie’s free-clinic probably. She is kind of a legend among the locals. Don’t know one Park Row-kid that she hasn’t patched up. I would have brought him there.”_

“All right” _,_ Barbara said, “I want you to go there and talk to Doctor Leslie, Spoiler.”

_“You can’t just always give me busy-work”,_ Spoiler protested.

“It’s not busy-work”, Oracle’s voice was sharp, “It’s about a missing, injured child.”

Spoiler was silent for a second. But she said: _“Fine. It’s a long shot though.”_

“It’s still a valuable trail”, Oracle said, “So, take it seriously.”

Spoiler stayed quiet.

_“I’m going in”,_ Selina said, _“Covertly. He has hostages.”_

Oracle threw up the layout of the bank on her screen: _“I have the blueprints.”_

_“Great”,_ Selina said, _“Guide me, Oracle.”_

Barbara focused on monitoring the bank mission. The al Ghul-case went to the back of her mind.

*

Stephanie Brown had been frustrated lately. Her dream had literally come true when the legendary Oracle had hacked her phone one day during one of her patrols as Spoiler.

_“You need to stop, Stephanie”, the computer voice had said, “You are getting yourself killed.”_

_“How do you know my name?”_

_“I’m Oracle”, the voice had said as if that was explanation enough._

_“Holy shit”, Steph had been giddy with excitement, “You uncovered the President’s shady business dealings. And all that other stuff.”_

_Oracle had stayed quiet._

_“And you lead the Birds of Prey. You are like a legend.”_

_Oracle had seemed unimpressed: “I’ve been following your trail, Stephanie. I know what you’ve been doing. It’s admirable but stupid. Your father is a dangerous man. And you are an amateur.”_

_“Come on. Cluemaster isn’t that dangerous. He’s like rip-off Riddler. And the Riddler isn’t that menacing in the first place”, Steph had said, “I’ve been leaving clues of his crimes. It’s only a question of time until the police catches on.”_

_“Leave it to us”, Oracle had said, “I’m on the case.”_

_“With the Birds?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“That’s so cool. We should totally team up.”_

_“No.”_

_“Then, I’m gonna continue being Spoiler on my own.”_

_“Just leave it be. I traced you. So, others can, too. Stop it before it’s too late”, Oracle had ended the call._

Naturally, Stephanie hadn’t stopped. She had continued messing up her father’s crimes by leaving clues behind at the crime scenes. And she had crossed paths with the Birds more than a few times. They had no choice but to take her under their wing.

Together, they had gotten her father behind bars. That abusive bastard had deserved it. Steph had run away from him for a reason.

And Steph loved being with the Birds. Being Spoiler. They had trained her in the last few months. And there was nothing more awesome than having stealth training with Catwoman, target practice with Huntress, martial arts lessons with Black Canary and learning hacking from Oracle.

But more often than not Steph wondered if the Birds even liked having her around. Or did they just see her as a stupid liability that they had to protect from herself? The most recent mission seemed to confirm it. They didn’t trust Steph. They were sidelining her again.

Especially Oracle seemed so adamant that Steph was just an amateur – despite Selina trying to convince her that Steph was learning. It hurt and it scratched at Steph’s self-confidence.

Stephanie ripped herself out of her thoughts. She hoped that this was a good lead because she could seriously impress the other Birds if she found the deciding lead to the missing Damian al Ghul.

Steph decided to enter the free-clinic through the front door. Not everyone had to be as dramatic as Catwoman.

“I’m looking for Doctor Leslie”, Spoiler walked towards the reception.

The woman frowned at Stephanie’s costume: “And you are?”

Stephanie tried to look as impressive as possible: “I’m _the_ Spoiler. Newest member of the Birds of Prey and vigilante extraordinaire.”

The woman seemed amused: “All right, _the_ Spoiler. Sit down in the waiting room until Doctor Leslie has time for you.”

Steph sighed. But she sat down. Her leg felt restless. The other patients looked at her with wide eyes.

Some of them seemed really banged up. Steph felt bad for them. But it was Gotham in the early morning hours where only vigilantes, criminals and the desperate roamed the streets. So, there was nothing else to expect.

It seemingly took forever until Steph was called into the Doctor’s office. Leslie frowned when she saw her.

Steph took a page out of Huntress’ book and came directly to the point: “I’m Spoiler from the Birds of Prey. And I’m looking for Damian al Ghul.”

Leslie tensed. Steph didn’t need to be an expert to see that she knew something.

“I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Little boy? Around 13? Came here with a cross bolt in his shoulder?”

Leslie shook her head: “You should leave.”

“Huntress shot him. She is sorry – I think. At least the rest of the Birds are.”

Leslie stood up, opening the door.

Steph felt more desperate. Maybe she hadn’t started this correctly.

  
“His father is looking for him. Bruce Wayne. He wants to protect him.”

Leslie halted, closing the door again: “Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes. He sent the kid away when he knocked at his door. But he regrets it.”

“You are sure he is the boy’s father?”

“Oracle is”, Steph said.

Leslie frowned. She seemed conflicted. Steph needed to ease her doubts.

“Catwoman? You know her?”, Steph said.

“I’ve known her ever since she was a troublemaking teenager”, Leslie said.

“Selina Kyle”, Steph said, “I’m her friend. And you know that Selina wouldn’t be friends with someone who would harm a kid. Catwoman fights for the vulnerable.”

Leslie’s frown softened. Steph was winning her over.

“We are trying to find Damian to protect him. His family is dangerous. They sent people after him.”

  
Leslie hesitated. But she looked at the door making sure that it was closed.

“Sit down”, Leslie sighed, “I know where Damian is. A dear friend is hiding him.”

“Someone trustworthy?”

“Very”, Leslie said, “Damian couldn’t be in better hands.”

“Who?”

Leslie wrote down a name and an address.

Steph picked the note up and laughed when she read the name: “Of course, Hot Social Worker is caught up in this.”

“You know him?”

Steph smiled: “You are right. Damian couldn’t be in better hands.”

*

The sun had risen by the time Steph left the clinic. Steph squinted her eyes shut – the light tickling her tired eyes.

_“The mission was successful”,_ Oracle told Steph over her comm, _“We caught Two Face and freed the hostages. Only minor injuries.”_

“Great”, Steph said, “Doctor Leslie told me where Damian is hiding. He’s with a social worker. Richard Grayson. I know him. He’s a good guy. I sent you his name and address.”

Oracle was typing, _“I found him in the police database. He as a bit of a criminal history. But he seems to have cleaned up his act.”_

_  
_“I can visit him. I know where he lives.”

_“No need, Spoiler. I’ll take care of this. Come back to the base and get some sleep.”_

Steph tried to insist that she was fit enough to finish the job. But she found herself yawning. Her eyelids were protesting from being kept open for so long.

_“Good job, Spoiler.”_

Steph found herself smiling.

*

Barbara scanned for Grayson on the various traffic cameras. She had assumed that he would be at work and wanted to keep an eye on him. If the Birds had found him, others would find him, too. And they wouldn’t hesitate.

She was surprised when Grayson took a train to Gotham Central – which was in the opposite direction of the CPS building.

Barbara watched more closely. Maybe he was visiting a child?

But Grayson seemed tense. Dark circles under his eyes and carrying a shopping bag. He would look like any other overworked Gothamite, if you didn’t know any better. But Barbara knew better. Grayson was up to something.

He hurried up the stairs of the train station looking behind him as if he was worried that someone was following him. Barbara kept tracing him through the cameras. In central Gotham, there were thankfully enough of them. Barbara knew this district well. It was close to the Clocktower and the library where Barbara worked. She crossed it at least once a week when she visited her father for lunch at the police station.

And strangely – the police station was Grayson’s destination. He looked around again. Seemingly steeling himself before entering. Then, he opened the door.

Barbara halted. Thinking. She didn’t know what Grayson could be doing there. He was hiding Damian. Why would he go to the police?

Oracle needed more information to act. And Barbara Gordon had the perfect reason to go to Gotham Central.

“Hey, Dad”, Barbara called Jim Gordon, “I don’t have work today. Do you want to meet for lunch later?”

“Sure”, Jim sounded happy, “I found a new dinner with great donuts.”

Barbara laughed: “You are such a stereotypical cop, Dad.”

“I’m a cop in Gotham. I need some sources of joy.”

“Great. I’ll wait for you at the station”, Barbara said.

She put on her coat. Already thinking about how to best approach Grayson.

*

Barbara wheeled herself inside the police station. It was close to the Clocktower. The foyer was filled with people. They were standing in a long line in front of the reception. Not an unusual sight in Gotham’s main police station. It was notoriously understaffed and overworked.

Barbara sticked to the corner. Watching and categorizing the people.

A middle-aged woman was standing in front of the reception. Gesturing widely. She seemed upset. Probably here to bail out a family member who had been arrested.

Grayson was standing in line. He must have been waiting for quite some time now because he was relatively close to the reception. And his foot was tapping restlessly.

Barbara took a small listening device out of her pocket. She wheeled herself towards the reception smiling at the women behind the desk. Agnes. She had been working here for a few years.

The people in line watched Barbara like hawks. But no one dared to complain about the woman in the wheelchair.

“Excuse me”, Barbara said, “Could you tell my father that I am here?”

Agnes smiled and picked up her phone: “Sure, Barbara.”

Barbara slipped the listening device under the counter.

She nodded in thanks at Agnes and returned to her corner. Then, she put in her earbuds to listen to what the people at the reception were saying. The distressed woman was indeed asking about her son who had been arrested.

There were another two people in front of Grayson. He spoke quietly. Barbara had to turn up the volume.

“Hello. My name is Dick Grayson and I am a social worker.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Grayson?”, Agnes asked.

He hesitated. Looking around.

“I need to speak to Commissioner Gordon. I have some sensitive information. You understand?”

Agnes frowned: “I can’t just let you talk to the Commissioner.”

Grayson looked around again: “It’s about the foster care system. I’ve been collecting evidence. I’m sure the Commissioner would be interested in it.”

“I can connect you to one of our other officers-“

“No”, Grayson said, “I can only speak to the Commissioner.”

Agnes shook her head: “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson. But the Commissioner is a busy man.”

Grayson smiled tensely: “I hope not too busy for cases of abuse, corruption and human trafficking?”

Agnes signed: “You need to understand my position. I have dozens of people every week who claim to have relevant information for the Commissioner. It’s seldomly useful. The best I can do for you is to hand over the evidence.”

“I need to do it personally.”

Agnes shook her head: “That’s not possible, Mr. Grayson.”

“You looked at my criminal record, didn’t you?”

Agnes’ hesitation gave her away.

“I can assure you that this in my past. It’s like teenage mistakes. We all make them.”

“Your mistakes seem a bit more severe than the usual ones. I’m frank with you, Mr. Grayson: With that record you should never have been able to become a social worker.”

Grayson smiled, turning up the charm: “You are right. And it may have something to do with the corrupt system I am trying to uncover.”

Agnes didn’t seem completely immune. She looked at Grayson again. As if she was contemplating. But then she steeled her features and shook her head.

  
“I can’t let you speak directly to the Commissioner.”

Grayson sighed. He turned around without another word. Running his hand through his hair in exhaustion.

Barbara took out her earbuds. Grayson crossed the foyer and left the station without another gaze. Barbara cursed and hurried after him. She rolled down the ramp of the station.

He was already at the next street. Waiting at a red light.

“Mr. Grayson”, Barbara screamed.

The light was still red. And Grayson seemed be too in thought to hear her.

“DICK”, she screamed.

Some pedestrians looked at her in confusion.

But Grayson turned around. He approached her. Doubt visible on his face.

“Did you call me?”, he said.

“I’m Barbara Gordon”, she said.

Dick halted: “Gordon as in-?“

“The Commissioner’s daughter”, Barbara had heard if often enough, “I have to admit that I may have listened in on your conversation.”

Grayson seemed suspicious for a moment. But he tried not to show it. Anyone but Oracle wouldn’t have noticed.

Barbara had to admit that he was handsome. Sharp features and the bluest eyes Barbara had ever seen.

“In that crowded room?”, Grayson frowned, “I’m impressed, Barbara. You have great ears.”

“Better ears than legs”, Barbara said.

At Grayson’s hesitation, she laughed: “It’s fine. I’m allowed to make that joke.”

Grayson smiled. It was a nice smile. Very genuine and kind. He seemed like the kind of person who would stick his neck out for a troubled child he barely knew. Barbara had to admit that maybe she was melting a bit. But hey. Even Oracle wasn’t a robot.

“So, you heard about the whole _situation_?”, he lowered his voice.

Barbara nodded: “You are right. My father would be very interested in this. He’s been trying to investigate the foster system for a while now. But it’s a tangled web of corruption.”

“Who are you telling this?”, Grayson said, “I’ve been working in this cesspool for years now.”

Barbara nodded in sympathy. She could imagine that it must be exhausting. As Oracle, she saw the depravity of Gotham every day. Grayson must feel similar.

“You have evidence?”, Barbara said.

“You understand, Barbara, that I just can’t hand it over to anyone?”, Grayson said.

Barbara nodded. She handed him her ID card.

“I hope this suffices.”

Dick looked at it closely. He wasn’t looking randomly – but for specific places. Like someone who knew how to spot a fake ID.  
  
Grayson nodded and handed it back to her: “Sorry for my suspicion. But I’m not used to this whole whistleblower thing. It’s making me paranoid.”

“I understand”, Barbara said.

She knew how valuable information was and in which hands it ended up.

“I-“, Grayson handed Barbara the bag, “I tried my best to document it.”

Barbara opened the back, carefully looking into its contents. It was a shoebox. Barbara made sure that no one was watching them and opened the lid.

Grayson had been thorough indeed. Every document was meticulously dated. Her Dad would be over the moon once he saw this. This was a goldmine. And Oracle could use this information first-hand with the Birds.

Grayson fidgeted with his foot while Barbara inspected the shoebox. He seemed to have quite the nervous ticks. Or he just had too much energy bundled up in general. It was endearing.

“This is great”, Barbara said.

“Really?”

Barbara nodded and looked up at him: “I’m a librarian. I would kill for such a neat archive.”

Grayson laughed. Really laughed.

“I’m happy that I could deliver.”

“Why don’t you go have lunch with us?”, Barbara asked, “I was waiting for my father.”

“I don’t want to intrude. I-“

  
“You wouldn’t intrude. I’m sure my father will take this opportunity to interrogate you”, and Oracle would have the perfect opportunity to listen in.

Jim Gordon wasn’t the only one interested in the Gotham foster care system. The Birds were, too.

He smiled: “Who doesn’t look forward to being interrogated by _the_ Jim Gordon?”

Barbara found herself smiling back.

*

They waited for the Commissioner in front of the police station. Dick had to admit that he was nervous. He didn’t know what was expected of him. Barbara may believe him, but the Commissioner was a different pair of shoes.

Barbara smiled.

She reassuringly patted his arm: “It will be fine. He doesn’t bite despite his reputation.”

And Dick felt his insides melting a bit because Barbara was _very_ pretty. He had always been a sucker for a nice redhead. And there was an intelligence about her. She observed everything around her with a certain determination and assuredness that Dick could only admire.

And she must be a good person because, apparently, she was one of the few people in Gotham that cared about the broken foster system. At least, Dick hoped she did. Maybe this was just too good to be true and Barbara was about to stab him in the back. But Dick genuinely hoped that he wouldn’t be disappointed this time. He was trying to be optimistic here.

James Gordon joined them after a few minutes.

“You found a _friend_ , Barb?”, the Commissioner looked between them in interest.

His gaze landed on Dick seemingly taking him apart and pulling all of his flaws to the forefront. Dick suddenly felt _very_ conscious about his second-hand coat. He tried to straighten it out without much success.

Dick held out his hand: “Dick.”

“What?”, the Commissioner frowned.

And Dick just wanted to dig himself into a hole and never turn up again.

“Richard Grayson, I mean, Sir. But you can call me Dick.”

The Commissioner frowned: “Are you sure about that nickname?”

“I can assure you that I’ve heard it all in Juvie before”, probably not a good idea to open with that one, “I mean. Not that I was in Juvie. OK. I was actually two times. But the first time wasn’t my fault. I know everyone says that but- Never mind. I’m gonna shut up now.”

Gordon laughed.

Barbara cleared her throat: “Dick is a social worker, Dad. He collected some evidence about his colleagues. _Very good_ evidence.”

“Really?”, Gordon looked at Dick with renewed interest.

“Yes, Sir”, Dick scratched the back of his neck, “I wanted to help somehow.”

He felt lame saying it.

“We can talk about in more detail”, Gordon indicated them to follow.

They entered a nearby diner and sat down in one of the booths in the back. Gordon waited with the interrogation after they had ordered. Dick took whatever was the cheapest – which turned out to be a chocolate donut. Gordon flipped through the shoebox examining what Dick had collected.

“Your name sounds vaguely familiar”, Gordon was still looking at the files.

“I used to perform at the circus when I was a kid. My family were aerialists. But during a performance in Gotham the rope snapped and my parents- you know.”

“I remember. I was at the scene that night”, Gordon looked up, “I am very sorry for your loss. It was a horrible accident.”

Dick bit his lip. He _knew_ that it wasn’t. He had seen Zucco’s goons talk to Haley. But Dick had tried to get revenge on Zucco once. Coming really close to killing the bastard. But a police cruiser had seen them and stopped Dick in the middle of smashing Zucco’s face in with a tire iron. Which is where his second stay in Juvie came into play.

Revenge hadn’t served Dick well. So, he had just accepted that there was nothing he could do and decided to dedicate his life to a better cause. Killing Zucco would only destroy Dick’s life. His parents would never have wanted this for him.

“Yes”, Dick forced the words out, “It was a horrible accident.”

  
Gordon nodded and closed the files: “Barbara is right. This is good evidence.”

“Really? You can do something with it?”

“I can do a lot with it”, Gordon said, “The question is what we do with you.”

“Me?”

“If I pursue the case, a lot of important players in Gotham’s underworld will be after you. You wouldn’t be safe in Gotham.”

“It’s no problem, Sir. No offense, but I never liked Gotham anyway. I plan to leave the country soon.”

He and Damian had already packed their stuff. If everything went right, they would be on a plane to Argentina tonight.

Gordon nodded: “A wise decision.”

They sat there eating their food. And Dick was actually starting to enjoy this. Jim told him about some of his more outrageous adventures in Gotham. Barbara talked about a variety of topics from classic books to computer science.

Dick’s assertion had been right. Barbara was _incredibly_ smart. And she seemed to like Dick for some reason? At least he thought so from her body language. She _had_ put her hand on his arm to reassure him. And Dick had liked the feeling.

Dick corrected his hopes though before they got too high. A woman of her caliber would never want something to do with him anyway.

Not that Dick was looking for love because he had a more pressing matter at his hands. His coworkers that were out too kill him, the assassin child he was housing in his miniature flat and the assassin cult that was after him because he was housing said child. Not to forget that he was leaving the country tonight. Not the right time indeed.

Dick had finished his donut when his phone rang. An unspecified number. But Dick knew who it was. He had given Damian a burner phone.

“Hey”, he took the call, “I hope you are fine.”

_“Grayson”,_ Damian said, _“We have a problem. Two of your morally corrupted coworkers broke into your flat in an attempt to secure the evidence. I dealt with them, naturally. But we may need to leave the country earlier than anticipated. Like immediately.”_

“Dami”, Dick looked around, feeling panic flare up in his chest, “What did you do?”

_“What is this stupid question meant to accomplish? I already told you. I dealt with them.”_

Dick ran his hand through his hair. He truly was screwed now. Dick may have a bit of a criminal history. But having _multiple_ _bodies_ in his flat was something he had never considered happening to him.

_“You need to come back immediately, Grayson”,_ Damian said, “ _There may be people after you. Your coworkers mentioned something about a pig hunting you down? I cannot discern what they meant.”_

Dick tensed. He almost lost the phone in shock. Professor Pyg was after him. One of the biggest psychos in Gotham. Well. Shit. Dick wasn’t sure if he would survive the way to his flat.

Dick looked at the Gordons who seemed increasingly concerned. He tried to look exasperated in an amused way: “I’m coming. Make sure that you don’t step on the shards.”

_“What, Grayson?”,_ Damian said, _“Did you imbecile not understand what I am trying to tell-“_

Dick stopped the call.

“I’m sorry”, he said, “But I have to leave. My… neighbor’s kid apparently sneaked into my flat again and broke some plates.”

Wow. That was a horrible lie.

Barbara looked at him - curious: “How did he get inside?”

“Ohh. He’s something else. He picks locks for fun. But he’s a good kid”, Dick stood up and threw some money on the table, “Have a nice day. It was nice meeting you.”

And he hurried out of the diner before the awkwardness could kill him. Or literally the fucking supervillain that was on his trail.

*

“He’s very handsome”, her father said after Grayson had left the café, “And he seems to be a good guy. I understand why you might like him.”

Barbara rolled her eyes: “Dad. I’ve met him less than two hours ago.”

“Just saying. I think he has too much going on anyway. He seemed occupied.”

“Not to forget that _I_ have too much going on”, Barbara said.

Jim laughed: “How could I forget?”

Barbara quickly excused herself afterwards and Jim had to go back to the precinct anyways. Jim took the shoebox with him. The evidence was in good hands. Oracle knew most of it through her photographic memory.

Barbara took out her comm and called the other Birds: “Oracle to Birds.”

She looked around. No one was paying attention to her. Most people hurried when they saw someone in a wheelchair to not be caught staring – which had the opposite effect really.

_“Here”,_ Catwoman answered, yawning.

_“Here”,_ Spoiler added.

“I planted a tracker on Grayson, and I need you to trail him.”

She had stuck it to his coat when she had touched his arm. It was so small that he shouldn’t notice it.

_“The guy that is hiding Damian?”,_ Catwoman asked.

She sounded like she had just woken up.

“Yes. He had to leave suddenly. He let a little nickname slip. _Dami_. I think he’s in trouble.”

_“Shit”,_ Steph said, _“I owe him. We need to make sure he’s fine.”_

Barbara reached the clocktower. She turned on her computer looking at the direction of the tracker. Grayson was moving fast.

“Grayson is in some deep shit”, Barbara said, “I met him at the police precinct because he had some evidence about the foster care system for my father. He collected it over years.”

_“So, he’s pissed off the League of Assassins and the Gotham creeps?”,_ Selina said, _“No civilian can survive that. Guy must have a death wish.”_

“Which is why the Birds need to get involved”, Oracle said, “I sent you his location. He’s on the move. You need to follow him.”

_“On my way”,_ Selina said.

_“Same”,_ Steph said, _“You met him, Oracle?”_

“I did. In my civilian identity. It was more convenient.”

_“He’s hot, isn’t he?”,_ Steph said.

“Focus on the mission, Spoiler.”

_“Come on. You are like roughly the same age. You could really hit it off.”_

“The mission, Spoiler.”

_“I just want to ensure that you are happy, Oracle.”_

Barbara was strangely touched by that. Steph was inexperienced, but her heart was in the right place. Stephanie reminded Barbara of herself in many ways. Maybe Barbara had been a bit hard on her recently.

_“Aww”,_ Huntress joined the conversation, _“How sweet. I’m on the move, too. Canary is in Star City with Arrow again. She’s been bailing on us recently.”_

Barbara still thought about Stephanie. She hesitated. Should she say it? Usually, she didn’t like to talk about feelings. But this was her team. She could be honest with them.

“I have my team, Spoiler”, Barbara said, “I’m already happy.”

Silence followed. Not even Huntress dared to make a sarcastic remark.

Barbara looked at the screen again. Her mouth felt dry when she saw Grayson’s dot.

“You need to hurry”, she said, “Grayson just stopped moving – in the middle of an alley.”

_“Someone’s got him”,_ Selina said what they were all thinking.

*

When Dick woke up, he couldn’t move his limps. There was shuffling around him and someone was whistling a song that Dick didn’t recognize. Dick’s mind felt foggy. He had been hurrying on the way the way to his flat. But then someone had attacked him from behind and forced a needle into his neck. Multiple someones.

He tried to move his limbs again. But something hard was holding them down. Metal straps.

Dick didn’t want to open his eyes. But he had no choice. He had to face reality at some point. The scene made him sick.

He was indeed strapped to a table. In the middle of some abandoned warehouse. A man with plastic gloves and a pig mask leaned over him. Dick had heard of Professor Pyg. He knew that someone like him existed in the deepest cesspools of Gotham.

But Pyg wasn’t like the villains you saw on TV. Someone like Riddler or Poison Ivy who may do horrible things but didn’t seem completely depraved. Pyg belonged into the category that used foster children as guinea pigs for his sick experiments – trafficked to him by Gotham’s biggest scumbags.

Pyg ignored Dick’s consciousness. He continued singing and ordered his – Dick had written the name down in his files – Dollotrons around.

Most of them were small. Definitely not fully grown. They all wore the same blue overalls with red-striped shirts underneath. Their faces seemed bloated. No individual features discernible. Red, synthetic hair covered their heads. But the worst was the scar on their forehead that peaked out from under the hair. A thin scar that spoke of so much horror. Pyg had chopped off parts of their brains and turned them into living robots.

Dick felt sick suddenly. He turned his head to the side, vomiting up the donut he had just eaten. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Pyg chided Dick, slapping his face: “So imperfect. Such an abomination.”

“You are a fucking abomination”, Dick screamed at him, “What did you do these people? They are children, you sick bastard.”

Maybe it wasn’t smart to piss the villain off. But Dick couldn’t care less. He was screwed. These restraints wouldn’t budge. And there was no one coming for him. No one would ever come for him.

“Pyg made them perfect”, his eyes were glazed behind the mask, “Pyg heard that you were naughty and talked. Pyg doesn’t like it when people interfere in perfection. So ungrateful.”

Dick had to correct himself. He was _really_ screwed.

Pyg picked up a scalpel nearing Dick’s forehead. Dick threw his head around. Pyg made an annoyed squeak. 

He turned around and picked up a ring with the longest screws Dick had ever seen.

“Pyg needs to immobilize your head”, he forced the ring onto Dick’s head.

Dick screamed. So loudly that he feared that his vocal cords would rip. He didn’t want to know what Pyg wanted to do with these screws.

Pyg pushed a gag into his mouth, taping it shut. Dick felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he would lose consciousness. He couldn’t lose consciousness. Because he would never regain it even if he woke up.

Pyg gestured at his Dollotrons. One of them gave him an electric drill.

The Dollotrons held Dick’s head still while Pyg turned on the drill. The sound reverberated through his head in foreboding.

Dick struggled. Trying to get away against all odds. But there was nothing he could do. He was helpless. The restraints and the Dollotrons were pushing him down. Pyg would jam a screw into his head. Multiple. And then he would continue his sick procedure once Dick couldn’t move. Dick couldn’t do anything. He was caught like a bug under a glass.

Pyg pushed the drill against the screw. It turned. Dick felt it tearing through his skin. Felt the hot blood running down his temple.

Dick’s cheeks felt hot and wet. He was sobbing and screaming into the gag. Pyg hovered over him focused on his task.

The drill met Dick’s skull and Pyg made an excited squeak. Dick pressed his eyes shut, resigning himself to his fate.

There was a loud crash. Was Dick dreaming?

*

Steph had never fought Professor Pyg before. And she was glad she hadn’t met him – because the guy was about to drill a screw into Dick’s head when Huntress kicked open the door.

Dollotrons ran at them. Selina kept them at bay with her whip.

“Free him”, Selina said, “Huntress and I are taking care of the Dollotrons.”

Steph evaded a few of the Dollotrons on her way to Dick. She opened up her collapsible bow staff and shoved them aside. They were young. Probably children. Steph didn’t want to think about the implications too much. It would make her sick.

Professor Pyg cursed, screaming at his Dollotrons to take the Birds down. Steph reached Dick. He seemed completely spent. Mouth slack around the gag. Cheeks tearstained. Blood was coating his temple where Pyg had started to drill the screw in.

Steph soaked in a breath. But the screw didn’t seem to have pierced his skull. Only the skin.

Steph took the gag out of his mouth. Dick was wheezing. As if he had trouble breathing.

“It’s OK”, Steph looked for a way to open his restraints, “We’re getting you out of here.”

He didn’t seem completely there. Still caught up in a world of panic. Who wouldn’t? Steph was a trained vigilante (not an amateur anymore) and she would lose her mind if Pyg got ahold of her.

“Catwoman”, Steph turned to her, “I need your laser-thingy.”

Selina threw it at her while she fought off the army of Dollotrons. It was disguised as a lipstick. Selina used it to laser open locks and safes. Steph lasered open the restraints, careful not to hurt him.

Dick jerked up, his chest heaving. He stared at Steph with glassy eyes. Pyg had done a number on him.

He looked like he wanted to get out of here. His legs twitching with the newfound freedom.

But the ring was still on his head. It looked like a medieval torture device.

“Stay still”, Steph said, “I’ll take care of it.”

She tried to sound more confident then she felt. Steph carefully took off the ring.

“See?”, Steph felt like she was talking to a wounded animal, “It’s fine.”

Steph looked around. Huntress was restraining Pyg while Selina pulled the last Dollotron towards herself with her whip.

“Steph?”, Dick frowned, looking at her.

“Ehm. No. I’m Spoiler”, Steph tried to make her voice sound deeper, “ _The_ Spoiler.”

“The bruises”, Dick frowned, “You were right. They weren’t from your father.”

“How do you even know?”

“You wear a cloth that covers the lower half of your face, Steph”, at least he seemed to be regaining some of his bearings.

“Good point”, Steph muttered, “But I’m not the only one with secrets. Apparently, you are housing the Demon’s Heir?”

“How do you know?”, Dick reached for his temple.

But Steph held his wriest back: “Good, old detective work. His father – Bruce Wayne – asked Oracle to find him.”

  
“Wayne? But Wayne doesn’t care.”

“Apparently, he changed his mind”, Steph said, “We need to get you out of here. Get you and Damian to a safe place.”

“Where?”

_“I know where”,_ Oracle said through the comms.

*

Damian paced around Grayson’s flat. His shoulder was almost healed. Damian was relieved. Being injured was horrible. Damian connected it with grueling training that was made even worse by the injury. And a deep helplessness.

He felt helpless now, too. Waiting for Grayson while looking down at the bodies whose throats he had slid. Johnson and some other useless hack. Damian had quickly put an end to their fumbling attempts at a break-in. They had tried to secure the evidence Grayson had collected. Too bad that they had been too late. And that the Son of the Demon had greeted them instead of a fumbling social worker.

Damian tensed when he heard a key rattling in the lock. He raised his katana.

“It’s me, Dami”, Grayson stumbled inside, looking like he had seen a ghost.

Grayson’s head was bandaged. Something had happened. Damian needed to know what so that he could eliminate the threat.

“You look more pathetic than usual, Grayson”, Damian said, “What happened?”

“I had the worst day, Dami”, Grayson looked at the bloody floor, “And I have two bodies in my flat. What do I do with two bodies?”

A girl in purple followed Grayson. One of the Birds. Damian narrowed his eyes.

“My name’s Spoiler. I’m here to help.”, she said, “We saved him from Professor Pyg. He’s been a bit off since then.”

Steph looked at Dick whose eyes were darting through the room in unfocused terror.

Damian sighed and pulled Grayson towards the couch. He brought Grayson a glass of water.

Grayson tried to pick it up, but his hands were too shaky.

Damian sighed again. He held it to Grayson’s mouth.

“Drink, imbeci-“, Damian looked at Grayson’s shaken form, “Grayson.”

Grayson spilled half the water over his shirt.

He smiled maniacally once he had finished, rubbing at the bandage at his temple: “He almost drilled a hole into my head, Dami. Can you believe that?”

Damian’s stomach twisted at the idea. He had seen the reports while rifling through Grayson’s shoebox. Professor Pyg apparently? Damian knew what that man was capable of.

“I’m glad he didn’t drill a hole into your head, Grayson”, Damian put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder.

“That’s it, Dami? No comment on my brain capacity? Am I dying?”

“Pyg couldn’t have lowered it dramatically anyway”, Damian said – for Grayson’s sake.

The retort lacked its usual bite. He couldn’t find it in him to kick a man who was down. Especially not the man who had sheltered Damian at his lowest point.

Still, Grayson broke into full-on laughter. Damian exchanged a glance with Spoiler. He was mildly worried for Grayson’s sanity. It must have taken a dent.

Grayson pulled Damian into a hug: “Do you know how glad I am to see you?”

“Unhand me, Grayson”, Damian protested – mildly caught off-guard.

_No one_ was ever glad to see Damian. Either because he was about to kill them. Or because he had disappointed them like his mother.

“Pack your things”, Spoiler said, “We’re bringing you to Wayne Manor. Oracle called your father. He has been worried.”

Damian frowned. That airhead Wayne was worried? Damian would believe it once he saw it.

Argentina would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dick. I found it kind of funny writing him and Barbara pining over each other – but both thinking it’s not the right time. I feel like this is a staple throughout canon…
> 
> And yay Oracle. She’s the real MVP here (together with Steph – vigilante extraordinaire - of course). Sneaky Babs is the best Babs.
> 
> Bruce is finally gonna turn up again next chapter. I haven’t forgotten about him. I just found it important to develop the places of his kids in this new world.
> 
> I wanted to choose a less used villain than the classics. So, I took one from Dick and Damian's time as Batman and Robin. That run had some good villains. (Flamingo anyone? The dude is fabulous.) Professor Pyg was the obvious choice because he would totally use some poor orphans as his Dollotrons. Give me even the Joker over that dude. I’m not even joking.


	6. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finally reunites with Damian and Dick. It doesn’t go as he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the lack of Bruce, this one is completely from his perspective. He's coming to some realizations but is still terribly oblivious in others. So, in other words: He is still the Bruce we all know.   
> I have too much fun ripping on him. But it comes from a place of love I swear. :)

Bruce paced through the living room of the Manor. Oracle had contacted him a few minutes ago telling him that the Birds, Damian and a man who had sheltered Damian were on their way to the Manor.

The last few weeks had been excruciating. Bruce would have preferred to run out and search for his son himself. But he didn’t have any of the means that Batman had. No tech. No suit. No training. No connections. So, he had been dependent on what Barbara told him. And she had found Damian. Assassins were on his trail but, apparently, he was safe for now.

“Why are you so nervous, Bruce?”, Martha was sitting with Thomas at the tea table.

“A few associates found Damian for me. They are coming.”

Thomas was still looking at his newspaper: “Great news. I am glad that you are finally taking responsibility for your heir.”

Martha frowned: “Do you think it is smart to enrage the al Ghuls? They are valuable allies to have and Talia is Damian’s mother.”

“She is hurting him”, Bruce said, “Turning him into an assassin. He can’t stay with her.”

“If you think so, Bruce”, Martha didn’t sound convinced, “I hope you can talk about this with Talia.”

Bruce highly doubted that. The time for talking had been over once Talia had sent her assassins after Damian. There was no talking things out with her.

Bruce felt tense, balling his fists. He would see his son again. He couldn’t screw this up.

Martha watched him intently: “Sit down, Bruce. Have some tea.”

Bruce’s throat felt dry, but he sat down.

“You look worried”, Thomas folded his newspaper and set it aside.

“I-“, Bruce was about to brush it off as he always did.

But these were his parents. He didn’t need to hide his doubts in front of them.

“I’m not sure if I can be a good father”, Bruce said, “My track record isn’t the best.”

“You’ve been worried for Damian”, Thomas said, “You care.”

“I do”, Bruce said, “I want to make things right with him.”

Thomas smiled encouragingly: “That’s the most important. Damian seems to be good for you. You haven’t been drinking in the last few weeks.”

Bruce sighed. It wasn’t drinking he was worried about. Just his general emotional incompetence. But this time Bruce had a back-up. He always carried the time machine with him. And if he screwed up majorly, he could just go back and start over.

Martha reached for his hand: “I have my doubts because you are right: Your track record isn’t the best. But you aren’t alone. We can help you. Alfred can help you. You have a mansion of people who support you. We just have to hope that the al Ghuls will understand.”

That was the thing though. Bruce had had a mansion of supportive people before. And he had still screwed it up.

“Thank you, Mom”, Bruce felt himself choke up, “It means a lot.”

Martha smiled. She still didn’t seem completely convinced. Bruce could see the doubt in her. And it hurt. But Bruce didn’t deserve any better.

Thomas squeezed Bruce’s shoulder: “I’m proud of you, son. You are taking on responsibility.”

Bruce smiled, some of the tension slipping away. He had never expected to hear these words from his father ever again.

The doorbell rang and Bruce hurried towards the door. He ripped it open. Damian was standing in front of him. Scowling. Wearing a little backpack where the handle of a katana was definitely peeking out of.

Bruce took a moment to take his son in. Damian looked almost exactly the same as he remembered him. The same driven look in his eyes. His posture was proud and a little bit haughty. His shoulder was bandaged which was mildly concerning. But they would deal with it.

Bruce smiled. His boy was back home.

He crouched down. Unsure of what to do. He wanted to hug Damian. Pull him close to _feel_ that his son was really here. But it would freak Damian out. Especially after what he had just gone through.

Instead Bruce put a careful hand on Damian’s uninjured shoulder: “I’m so happy you are here. I’m so sorry. I made a horrible mistake.”

Damian turned up his nose, speaking in an accent that he had lost in Bruce’s old timeline: “You sounded quite differently last time, _Wayne_.”

“I was drunk”, Bruce said, “I cleaned up my act since then. I want to be a father to you, Damian. Whatever it takes for you to trust me.”

Damian brushed off Bruce’s hand as if it was a speck of dust on his jacket: “Is my Mother here? Did she set you up for this?”

“I swear to you, Damian, that I am genuine. I wanted to see _you_. Talia doesn’t know that you are here. I want to gain custody of you and to give you a home here.”

Damian ignored Bruce’s words.

“Tt”, he stepped inside, looking around the mansion with unimpressed eyes, “I wish to be shown to my quarters.”

Bruce’s heart sank. He had expected Damian to be hurt. But to be this dismissive?

Bruce’s hand twitched to the time machine in his pocket. He could turn time back – just for a few seconds and find something better to say. But even if he did, Bruce didn’t know how to fix this.

Maybe if he went back to the instance where Damian had first knocked at the Manor’s door… This time, Bruce wouldn’t dismiss him. But if Bruce took him in then, Talia would find him.

He shook his head. This wasn’t easily fixable. Bruce would have to do this the hard way.

“Very well, young Sir”, Alfred picked up Damian’s bag, “I will show you to your room.”

They walked up the stairs. Damian didn’t even look at Bruce. Bruce hated it. Whatever _Brucie_ had said when Damian had knocked – it had been devastating. Damian hid it behind his haughty demeanor, but he was hurt.

Damian spoke without looking at Alfred: “I wish for my quarters to be close to Grayson’s. The imbecile cannot be trusted on his own after his encounter with the _pig_.”

Grayson? Bruce’s head flew around. He had been so focused on Damian that he hadn’t noticed the Birds. Selina was leaning over a sportscar. Not so innocently checking out the interior. Huntress beside her. Probably making sure that the infamous Cat didn’t drive off with it.

  
Bruce couldn’t believe it when he saw Dick leaning against a garden sculpture. Stephanie was watching him with worry.

Dick’s head was bandaged, and he looked more than a little pale. His clothes looked disheveled. There were more than a few holes in his coat. But he was here. And Bruce couldn’t believe it.

“Dick”, Bruce spoke without thinking.

Dick had sheltered Damian?

Bruce hurried towards his son and pulled him into a hug. Dick felt like the warm presence that Bruce was used to. His eldest. The one that Bruce could always rely on – even if they often didn’t see eye to eye.

Bruce saw his mistake now. In the old timeline, Bruce had relied too much on Dick. He had expected Dick to be a peacemaker. To reign Damian in when the boy was in one of his moods. To boost their morale and to explain Bruce’s actions to the others. It was too much to expect of someone.

Bruce saw it now. But he had a chance to fix it now. Just like he could fix things with Damian. And Stephanie. And Barbara. All of them.

Bruce expected Dick to melt into the hug. Like he always did at the rare instances Bruce hugged him. Dick was a very tactile person. So, he soaked up each of these instances like a sponge.

But Dick tensed. Looking at Bruce in confusion: “Do I know you?”

And it hurt to not be recognized by his eldest. The child Bruce had picked up from that circus floor and carried to safety. The child whom Bruce had seen grow up into a great man who was too stubborn for his own good.

But in this timeline, Bruce had never picked Dick up from that floor. Bruce had just left him there. Alone. Bruce also hadn’t seen him grow up. Because he had erased all of it. And the confusion in Dick’s eyes was the prize.

Bruce wiped a speck of dust from Dick’s shoulder: “I’m sorry. I must have mixed you up with someone. My eyes are getting worse.”

Dick frowned: “But you knew my na-“

“How about we go inside?”

“Sure”, Dick narrowed his eyes, staying more than an arm’s length away from Bruce.

Bruce sighed internally. Already feeling the daunting emotional labor that was in front of him. How was he supposed to make his children like him again?

The Birds followed. Steph looked around the mansion with wide eyes. Sneakily taking out her phone. Bruce suspected that she would take more than a few selfies. And Selina would probably take more than a few expensive vases. But Bruce didn’t mind. He had missed them.

Damian came back down the stairs with Alfred.

“Do you like your room, Damian?”, Bruce asked.

“It is acceptable”, Damian looked at Grayson, “I coordinated the division of the rooms with Pennyworth.”

“Young Master al Ghul insisted that your room is next to his, Mr. Grayson”, there was an amused crinkle in Alfred’s eyes.

Bruce hadn’t seen it in weeks.

Dick smiled: “I’m touched, Dami.”

Damian crossed his arms: “It was not out of sentimentality so don’t think too much of your own importance, Grayson. Simply out of safety concerns because of your incompetence.”

“Sure, Dami”, Dick ruffled Damian’s hair.

  
And Damian didn’t protest.

Bruce felt a pang in his chest. Even in this new timeline, Damian and Dick were already closer than Bruce and Damian were.

Bruce’s parents came out of the living room. Thomas greeted especially Damian with enthusiasm.

“I have long been waiting for Bruce to take responsibility for an heir”, Thomas said.

Damian creased his brows at the word ‘heir’. He must believe that Bruce was just trying to take advantage of him.

Bruce interjected: “Of course, you are more than that to me, Damian. You are my son and I love you.”

Damian frowned. Seemingly even more confused.

Bruce understood. This version of Damian had only seen Bruce two times. The first one had been more than hostile. And Bruce was already telling him that he loved him?

Dick seemed to recognize Damian’s apprehension, putting a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

Dick changed the topic: “You must be hungry, Damian.”

Damian nodded. Grateful for the distraction.

“How rude of us as hosts”, Martha said, “You must be exhausted. Could you please prepare dinner, Alfred?”

Alfred nodded: “Of course, Mistress Wayne.”

  
He vanished in the kitchen.

Steph took over the conversation: “I’m Spoiler by the way. The lady that is eying vase a bit _too_ closely is Catwoman. And the grumpy one is Huntress. Together with our leader Oracle we are the fabulous Birds of Prey.”

Bruce’s parents seemed a bit overwhelmed at the presence of the vigilantes.

Martha cleared her throat, focusing on Dick because at least he wasn’t in costume: “And you are part of the Birds of Prey as well?”

Dick laughed: “Unfortunately not. Though it would be fun I think.”

He held out his hand to Martha: “I’m Dick Grayson. The social worker that Doctor Leslie called when Damian was injured.”

Bruce perked up at the job mention. It was a good fit. In his old timeline, Dick had been moving from job to job without much direction. He had been a policeman for a few years until the corrupt system had become too much. He had been a gymnastics teacher for a while, casino worker, even a museum curator. Nothing had really stuck.

Next time Bruce saw Dick, he would bring social worker up as an option. Maybe it would stick this time. It was a way to do good and be around people without being in constant danger.

Bruce stopped his train of thought – remembering that he couldn’t recommend this to his version of Dick. Bruce would never see his version of Dick again. Because Bruce had erased him together with the rest of his children’s histories.

Thinking about it made him sad. So, he concentrated on the version of his son that stood in front of him.

“I don’t know many people that would have taken in an unknown child and hidden him from assassins”, Thomas sounded suspicious.

Dick’s smile froze: “I’ve always had less self-preservation than most people.”

Bruce frowned. Wondering what he meant. This version of Dick seemed _normal_. Which situations was he talking about where a lack of self-preservation came into play?

Thomas and Martha laughed uncomfortably.

Dick looked down at Damian: “But Damian is a good kid. He deserves someone good to take care of him.”

Dick was looking directly at Bruce. His gaze icy. It reminded Bruce of their worst fights. But even then, Dick hadn’t looked at Bruce this way. Then, there had at least been a history that connected them – even through the worst of their fights. _A history that Bruce had erased as if it didn’t matter._

“I can ensure you that I’ll do my best to take care of Damian”, Bruce said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it”, Dick was still smiling.

Bruce wasn’t fooled. Dick’s smile could be lethal. Nightwing would crack the most horrific puns while he broke someone’s kneecap with a single blow. It had been seriously unnerving to many criminals that Bruce had listened to on the streets.

_“Batman is scary and all. But Nightwing’s gonna kill you with kindness”,_ one of them had said once.

  
It had stuck with Bruce.

“How about we go to the dining room?”, Martha sensed the tension.

They went to the giant table. Bruce sat down next to Damian. The boy ignored him during dinner. Stephanie filled most of the silence with her chatter. She kept asking questions about the mansion and the lives of the Waynes.

Martha humored her with a smile on her face. Telling her about growing up in the mansion along with some juicy gossip about Gotham’s most prestigious families. Martha seemed to take to Stephanie. Bruce wondered if his mother had ever wanted a daughter.

Damian put down his cutlery: “I wish to retire to my quarters.”

He stood up: “Good evening, Waynes. Birds.”

Damian halted before he left the room: “Grayson, do you not wish to come with me?”

  
“I’ll be right after you”, Dick seemed tense, “I just have to discuss some things first.”

“Tt”, Damian said, “But don’t complain if you get lost.”

Damian left the room.

“He has his own way of expressing concern”, Thomas frowned.

“It’s his mother. She did a real number on him”, Dick said, “But he’s a good kid in his own way.”

“He seems like a suitable heir”, Thomas said, “Well-educated.”

“About that”, Dick pushed his plate away from himself, “You don’t know Damian yet. But his mother has very high expectations of him when it comes to being an heir. He struggles with it.”

“What are you implying, Mr. Grayson?”, Martha asked.

  
“I’m implying that I’m not completely convinced that this is the right environment for him.”

The table grew quiet. You could cut the awkwardness with a knife.

Bruce interjected: “I understand your concern, Di- Mr. Grayson. I made a horrible mistake. But I accepted it and I am ready to move forward and to be a good father to Damian.”

“That is a nice statement, Mr. Wayne. But do you know how often I hear parents say that?”  
  
Bruce’s throat felt dry. He didn’t even know what to reply. Apparently, Dick could take him aback in every timeline.

“Sending a child that knocks at your door away is pretty unforgiveable. The least you could have done was calling his parents to ensure that he gets home safely.”

Bruce cursed _Brucie_. Dick was right. His actions seemed pretty damning. Too bad that Bruce had no control about them. And turning back time for weeks now that things seemed to come together was too risky. Maybe Bruce would never find Dick again if he took Damian in directly.

“I know”, Bruce said, “I can’t stress how much I regret my actions. I failed my son.”

Bruce wasn’t even sure anymore which son he was talking about. He had too many. And Cassandra. He couldn’t forget his daughter. There was no sign of her in this timeline. Bruce didn’t know if this was good or bad.

Dick sighed: “Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Wayne. So, you understand that I want to be completely sure you are right for Damian?”

Bruce nodded, feeling thoroughly scolded: “That’s fair.”

“Damian may not act like it. But he is vulnerable. You need to be careful with him”, Dick said.

Bruce nodded again. He could see the care in Dick’s eyes. Dick might not recognize it – but he was already attached to Damian.

Thomas picked up on it: “You seem to be attached to Damian, Mr. Grayson.”  
  
“He grows on you”, Dick rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you have children, Mr. Grayson?”, Thomas said.

“I don’t.”

“Unfortunate”, Thomas’ undertone was snide, “You certainly seem to care a lot about _other people’s children_.”

The message was clear. Thomas warned Dick to not get too close. Damian was a Wayne after all.

“What can I say”, Dick smiled again – coldly, “It’s my job.”

He stood up: “Good night.”

The door closed behind him. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. This had gone horribly. Damian hated Bruce and Dick was suspicious of him.

Steph stood up: “I guess I’m going to sleep, too.”

Selina and Huntress followed. They all seemed eager to escape the awkwardness of this conversation.

“Did you need to threaten him?”, Bruce said when he was alone with his parents, “We want him to trust us so that he believes we can take care of Damian.”

“We don’t need Grayson to trust us”, Thomas said, “We have enough means to _take care_ of him.”

And Bruce didn’t like the sound of this at all.

“A few days”, Thomas said, “That’s how long he can stay. If he is still suspicious then, we will need to find other means.”

  
“Which means?”, Bruce said.

“Everyone has a prize.”

Maybe. But there were a few who didn’t. And Dick Grayson would never put money over someone’s well-being. Especially not a child’s.

“I can assure you that Dick Grayson doesn’t have one”, Bruce said, “He won’t leave if he isn’t completely sure Damian is safe with us.”

And Bruce didn’t want Dick to leave. He wanted his son to stay together with Damian. They could be a family again. A complete one this time.

“Because you have such a great knowledge of the human condition, Bruce?”, Thomas said.

“I know people like Dick.” _He knew Dick._

“Then, convince him, Bruce, if you insist”, Thomas said, “If you don’t succeed, I will take initiative.”

“I will convince him that I’m a good father. So, keep out of it.”

“Bruce, honey”, Martha said, “You understand why your father is doing this? Grayson is right in the sense that your actions were careless and unbecoming of a father. It will be hard to convince him.”

“I understand.”

Bruce would do it the hard way this time around. He would succeed. He had no choice but to succeed. If Thomas tried _his means_ with Dick, his son would forever despise the Waynes.

Martha seemed dubious: “If you think so, Bruce.”

Bruce stood up, excusing himself. He would prove them wrong.

*

When Bruce went up the stairs, he heard voices coming out of one of the guest rooms. The door was slightly ajar. Bruce sneaked closer to listen in. It must be Dick’s room because he was rummaging through a duffle bag that way lying on the bed. Damian stood behind him, fidgeting slightly with his hands while Dick’s back was turned.

“-Can’t you sleep, Dami?”

“I can sleep very well, Grayson”, Damian sounded insulted.

Dick turned around. Frowning.

“What do you think of your family?”

“They are not my family”, Damian crossed his arms.

Dick sat down on the bed: “I thought you would be into this whole mansion thing. The Waynes are an influential family.”

  
Damian hesitated: “You heard what my… Grand- Thomas said about me being an heir. Do you think it’s the only reason he wants me?”

“I don’t know. He certainly seems _quite_ fixated on it.”

“I-“, Damian looked at his hands, “I can’t do this again. I failed to live up to one heirdom. I can’t- Not with another.”

“You aren’t a failure”, Dick said, “Quite the opposite. I think it’s brave of you to run away when you did.”

“Thank you, Grayson”, Damian sat down next to him.

There was no snideness in it. Dick had indeed tamed the demon again.

“Your father on the other hand is a bit strange”, Dick frowned.

“He’s a drunken idiot.”

“I know drunken idiots. Your father doesn’t seem like one. Maybe he has good intentions. Maybe he doesn’t. I can’t tell yet. If he has some ulterior motive, he hides it very well.”

“I can’t trust them, Grayson.”

“Which is smart, Dami. If they want your trust, they should earn it.”

Damian raised his chin: “An al Ghul would not settle for anything lower.”

“Sure”, Dick smiled, “Let them work for it. The worst that can happen is that you get some fun out of it.”

They were silent for a while.

“But what if they don’t work for it?”, Damian’s voice sounded small.

“I’ll be with you every step on the way. I won’t leave you with them if I can’t be sure that they treat you well.”

“I expected that you would think of me as a nuisance to get rid of a quickly as possible”, Damian’s voice spoke in its usual haughty tone but Bruce could hear the insecurity within it.

“You’re right. You can be a little nuisance.”

  
Damian huffed.

“But you are _my_ little nuisance”, Dick smiled, “Who else can remind me ten times a day that I’m an idiot?”

“You are an idiot, Grayson. That was not funny.”

“I found it very funny.”

“For the reason that you have no taste.”

Dick chuckled.

“What do we do if we do not trust Wayne?”

_We_. Bruce was amazed by how quickly Dick had gotten Damian to trust him again.

“We’ll figure something out”, Dick said.

“That is indeed satisfactory”, Damian stood up.

Bruce tensed. He had been too captivated by the conversation to remember that he was eavesdropping. His instincts must be really rusty. Bruce tried to sneak away but Damian left the room before Bruce could vanish.

Damian narrowed his eyes when he saw Bruce: “Apparently, the Wayne family does not recognize the value of privacy.”

Bruce’s heart was racing. Had he screwed up before he had even really tried? It would be way harder for Damian to trust him if he felt like Bruce didn’t respect his boundaries.

Dick had heard the commotion and left the room. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. Watching Bruce with open suspicion.

Bruce had _really_ screwed up. There was only one way to undo it. He took out the time machine, rigidly typing. Two minutes back in time would suffice to erase his mistake.

Bruce also took out the family photo. It was the last remainder of his old family and Bruce would never lose it. He needed to clutch it in his hand to ensure that he kept it.

“What are you doing?”, Dick stared at the photo, “Is that Damian and I? Where did you get that? Who are these other people?“

Damian’s scowl deepened. He looked ready to attack any second.

Dick’s gaze grew more frantic: “Wait. Jason. You know Jason-“

Bruce pushed the button – activating the machine. There was a slight moment when time was frozen. Bruce could see Damian’s scowl. And Dick’s hand still in the midst of bridging the distance between him and Bruce. Reaching out for the photo.

Time hadn’t frozen the last time. What did this mean?

Then, Bruce’s consciousness was ripped out of his body. It seemed more painful this time.

Almost violent. He stifled a gasp when his consciousness was pushed back into his body.

Two minutes back in time. Dick and Damian were still talking.

_“You are an idiot, Grayson. That was not funny.”_

_“I found it very funny.”_

Bruce hurried away before they could catch him eavesdropping again. His heart was racing when he vanished into his own bedroom. Bruce had thoroughly cleaned it in the last few weeks, getting rid of all the cigarettes and bottles. He sat down on the bed staring at the photo and the time machine.

It had almost felt like some force had tried to stop him from turning back time again. Something had resisted him.

Bruce didn’t like these implications. He had felt like an insect stuck in jelly when he had turned back time. Narrowly escaping. What if he couldn’t escape next time? Would time freeze permanently?

  
This was a wrinkle he hadn’t expected. It meant that Bruce couldn’t just turn time back when it was convenient. That he had to be careful when to use the machine. To only use it in the highest of emergencies.

Something was resisting him. Something powerful. Maybe something that even Batman couldn’t defeat.

Bruce tried to distract himself. Looking at the photo again. Dick had recognized Jason. Even in this timeline, they knew each other.

It was strange that so many of his children had met again in this timeline. As if some force was making them collide. Bruce wondered if there were constants across different timelines. Maybe his children were somehow destined to meet each other. The idea was comforting in places and terrifying in others.

Did this mean that Bruce’s parents were destined to die violently in each timeline? Bruce couldn’t let this happen. He needed to protect them. He wouldn’t lose them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce being like: Who would have thought that altering the fabric of time and space has consequences? *confused Pikachu face*
> 
> I've been kind of bad at answering comments lately. Just know that I appreciate each of them and that I'll answer all of them. Even a procrastinating tortoise reaches its goal eventually. (That's a metaphor that would make Dick proud.)


	7. Bruce tries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tries. Damian is Damian. And Dick is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the title summarizes the chapter really well.  
> I'm picking on Bruce but it comes from a place of affection I swear. :D

Bruce felt hypervigilant when he got up. Almost energized. Finally, he could act again after weeks of feelings useless.

The number of tasks seemed overwhelming. Bruce went through them like a checklist. He had to get Damian to trust him again. He had to get Dick to trust him again. He had to make sure that his parents stayed safe at all times. And he had to get some information about Jason out of Dick. Not to forget that the League of Assassins was still after Damian which could become a problem. Each of these aims could go horribly wrong and Bruce could not rely on the time machine to fix his mistakes.

Bruce deliberated longer than he wanted to admit about his clothes. He had to seem trustworthy. But not too distant. So, he settled for a plain black button-up.

Bruce took a deep breath. His hands were surprisingly shaky. This was ridiculous. Bruce was Batman. He had disarmed bombs while balancing on a tightrope and fighting a horde of robot penguins. (The Penguin had his phases sometimes.) Facing his family was nothing against the craziness he had survived as Batman.

So, he Bruce left his room after his little pep talk and went down the stairs. The dining room was empty except for Alfred who was wiping the table.

“Good morning, Alfred”, Bruce forced a smile, “Have you seen my parents?”

Alfred frowned: “Master Wayne is at Wayne Enterprises. Mistress Wayne left to organize the charity gala next week.”

Bruce sucked in a breath. He couldn’t keep an eye on his parents if they left the mansion.

“Damian?”

“He is training I believe with the Birds.”

“Dick?”

“You mean young Mister Grayson?”, Alfred halted, “I did not have the impression that you were on first name basis.”

Bruce simply shrugged. On the inside his thoughts were racing. Bruce couldn’t afford to let more hints slip. He had to be careful what he said.

Alfred continued to wipe the table.

“Mister Grayson seems to still be asleep. He seemed a bit… exhausted yesterday.”

Bruce nodded. At least one person he didn’t have to worry about for now.

“What do you wish to eat for breakfast, Master Bruce?”

“Later, Alfred”, Bruce left the room, “I don’t have time.”

He hurried towards the private gym in the Manor only to hear voices.

Damian and Steph were sparring on the mats. Steph seemed annoyed, her face red from exhaustion. Damian seemed to have barely broken a sweat. He used a judo throw to get her down on the mat.

“Your reaction time is abysmal, Spoiler”, Damian commented.

“Just as your manners”, Steph stood up again, “Let’s do this again.”

Selina was watching them. Huntress wasn’t here. Bruce suspected that she was lingering around. Securing the perimeter. Helena Bertinelli may be a loose cannon, but you couldn’t accuse her of being careless.

Damian’s voice was nasally: “I would advise you to quit being a vigilante, Spoiler. You are clearly not fit for it.”

Steph sent a kick to Damian’s stomach: “I’m new at this. But I’m a fast learner. And I’m not known for listening to advice.”

“Seconded”, Selina was polishing her nails in a cherry-red.

She seemed only mildly interested.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side here, Catwoman?”, Steph barely dodged Damian’s attempt at sweeping her leg out under her.

Selina shrugged: “I’m on no one’s side but my own.”

Steph sighed when Damian got her with a mean blow to her face. She fell to the floor.

“Just give up, Spoiler”, Damian said.

Steph stood up again, wiping her nose. It was bloody.

“Again”, she balled her fists.

Damian frowned. He seemed confused at Steph’s insistence. Damian had probably never _not_ excelled at something. Talia wouldn’t allow anything else.

Selina closed her nail polish: “How about we take care of that bloody nose?”

“It’s fine”, Steph wiped her face with her sleeve in annoyance, “You don’t need to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you”, Selina put her hands on her hips, careful to not stain her clothes with cherry-red.

Bruce stayed at the door. He assumed that they hadn’t noticed him yet. Tension was running through the room.

“You are”, Steph gestured, “All of you do. Constantly. I know I’m not the greatest fighter. Or the greatest tactician. Hacker. Whatever. I’m just average, old Spoiler. But I really want to learn. And I want to help people. I know what I’m getting into and I’m ready to face it head-on.”

“Stephanie-“

  
Steph shook her head: “I’m sick of it. I’m not useless.”

“No one said that”, Selina’s face fell.

She seemed upset. Her nonchalant attitude had broken away.

Steph glared up at Selina: “Then why do you act like I am?”

Steph turned around hurrying out of the gym. Bruce had to step aside to make space for her.

He felt dumbstruck, wondering if Stephanie had felt similarly in his timeline. She always seemed so determined. Ready to learn. Bruce had seen her as overeager. Maybe he should have recognized her commitment more.

Selina sighed, running her hand through her short hair. She was muttering to herself.

“Shit. I told Oracle that-“, Selina halted when she recognized Bruce.

Her mouth turned into a sultry grin: “You snuck up on me there, handsome.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be”, Selina sauntered towards the door, “Just a little squabble. And I need a cigarette.”

Bruce stood there. Not knowing what to do.

He looked at Damian who was beating a boxing sack to a pulp. He was tense, visibly uncomfortable with the fight.

“Stressed?”, Bruce said.

“Stress is unbecoming of an al Ghul”, Damian kicked against the sack, “I am merely maximizing my training to balance out my weeks of injury. Grayson, the fool, did not allow me to train.”

“Seems like a good decision”, Bruce looked at Damian’s shoulder.

“Is there something you require, Wayne?”

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. He had to get Damian to trust him. And to do this, Bruce had to adapt to the only language Damian understood.

“Do you want to spar?”, Bruce could use a nice, simple training spar to take his mind of things.

And it was a bonus if it brought him closer to his son.

Damian halted: “I do not believe you have the capabilities to train with me. Your skills should be even more pathetic than Spoiler’s.”

Bruce smiled: “You would be surprised.”

Damian seemed doubtful. But he followed Bruce onto the mat.

Bruce went into a fighting stance. He frowned when he felt a slight protest in his knees. But he ignored it. Batman had fought and prevailed under far harsher conditions. This weak body couldn’t hold back his strong mind.

Damian raised his chin. Waiting for Bruce to take the first step.

“The first one to go down three times loses”, Bruce said.

Damian seemed even more doubtful. Bruce would prove him wrong. He would impress Damian with his fighting prowess. And then the boy would at least be curious enough to listen to what Bruce had to say.

Bruce aimed first. He had done this move a thousand times before. Pretending to go for the face while he aimed to swipe Damian off his feet instead. Bruce could perfectly picture this move in his mind. It was second nature to him.

But when he tried to enact it, his body felt slow. Weighed down. His limbs didn’t seem to do what he wanted to. His body felt slow. Damian saw him coming from a mile away. He jumped over Bruce’s attempt at swiping his leg and instead sent a kick to Bruce’s stomach.

Bruce tried to clench his muscles to soften the punch but there wasn’t much to clench. The blow hit him full force. Bruce groaned.

Damian used his distraction to swipe Bruce’s leg. He put his foot to Bruce’s throat, looking down at him with dark, unimpressed eyes.

“One down. Two to go”, Damian said.

Bruce smiled: “Good job.”

“Your compliment means nothing to me. An easy job is nothing worth complimenting.”

“Did Talia teach you that? I still think it’s impressive.”

Damian didn’t react.

Bruce stood up again. Ready to spar again. He had just needed one round to get into it. The next one would be better. Next time he would-

Damian seemed to hit him out of nowhere. Bruce fell onto the math again. Damian didn’t even speak this time.

Bruce stood up – feeling slightly wounded in his pride. This was getting embarrassing and infuriating. Why couldn’t his body enact what his mind wanted it to?

Damian barely tried the last time. He got Bruce down with two simple kicks. Bruce hit the mat and laid there for a moment. Trying to regain his breath. Because for some reason, _Brucie’s_ body could barely sustain a spar of three minutes.

“You were a worthless opponent”, Damian left the mats, walking towards the door, “A waste of my time. Even more so than Spoiler.”

“You did great, Damian.”

“Your praise means nothing to me.”

Damian’s words seemed to slice Bruce’s chest right open. Did his son think so little of him?

*

Bruce collected the shards of his wounded pride and walked down to the dining room again. His energy had all but evaporated. Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. All of his aims seemed out of reach. Bruce was damned to always fall short.

He halted when he heard a laugh. Dick seemed to be talking with Alfred.

“-I can’t believe you saved the Queen’s dog, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Call me Alfred, dear boy”, Alfred’s voice was gentle.

Alfred had often used this tone in the old timeline when he complimented Dick on an acrobatic routine. Read to Cassandra. And had his teatime with Jason. Bruce had missed it. Alfred sounded so happy. He wondered if his surrogate father was lonelier in this timeline.

“Her Majesty indeed is known for her Corgis”, Alfred said, “I can attest that they are lively creatures.”

“Corgis?”, Dick said, “What does a Corgi even look like?”

Alfred described the dog.

“I’m sure Damian would love one”, Dick sounded fond, “He really likes animals – even if he doesn’t admit it often. I only cooked vegetarian while he was with me. He kept complaining about my _culinary inadequacies,_ but I think he appreciated it. ”

“That is good to know, Mister Grayson. I’ll remember it for the future.”

“If I can call you Alfred, you can call me Dick.”

“All right, Dick”, Bruce could see Alfred smile from his position.

Then, Bruce noticed that he was lingering again – which hadn’t ended well last time. So, he entered the dining room.

“Do you wish to eat breakfast, Master Bruce?”

Bruce said: “If Mr. Grayson wishes to join me?”

“Sure”, Dick leaned back, looking at Bruce curiously, “You look less roughed up than I expected.”

Bruce sat down grimacing when his knees acted up: “Damian told you?”

“More like stomped into the kitchen, saying a few cryptic insults and stomping out again.”

“Sounds like him”, Bruce muttered.

Alfred left the dining room to prepare breakfast.

“It’s impressive that you tried to spar with him”, Dick said, “Impressive but stupid.”

“I guess I tried to connect with him. But it was more like his elbow connecting with my face.”

“He appreciates it. Deep down. _Very_ deep down.”

Alfred brought them a tray with tea. He swatted Dick’s hand away when Dick tried to take the tea off the tray himself.

“None of that, Dick”, Alfred put the teacups down in front of them, “It is already break in protocol that I address you with your first name.”

Dick raised his hands in defence: “We wouldn’t want you to lose your butler badge. Do you have something like that? I’m sure you could already lose that for the swat on the hand.”

  
“I used to be MI6”, Alfred winked, “I can bend protocol a bit.”

Alfred left again.

“I like your butler”, Dick said, “He’s very cool.”

“He’s the best”, Bruce agreed.

Dick shook his head: “It’s so weird. Living in such a large house. Having a butler. How could you ever get used to that?”

“I don’t know anything else”, Bruce said, “I think it went to my head a bit. I became quite a jerk – if I am frank.”

Dick chuckled: “There are multiple ways to become a jerk. Not all of them involve a butler and a giant mansion.”

“You know anything about being a jerk?”, Bruce was not so subtly fishing for information.

He was curious about his son’s past.

  
“I had my teenage phase”, Dick looked at his teacup, “Probably worse than most.”

Bruce frowned: “Skipping school? Sticking it to _the_ _man_?”

Dick shook his head in amusement: “I wish. That would have been tame.”

“Tame?”

Dick looked up, narrowing his eyes: “Why are you interested, Mr. Wayne? I didn’t take you for someone who would care about… something like this.”

Bruce cringed inwardly. He had pushed too much, stoking Dick’s suspicion again.

Bruce bit his lip. His thoughts racing.

“I- I just care about people.”

“No offence, but it doesn’t seem like it from what I’ve seen in the media.”

“The media can be deceptive”, Bruce balled his fists.

Dick looked at Bruce’s fists. Frowning. Bruce quickly opened them again.

“I don’t know what to make of you, Mr. Wayne”, Dick said.

“Bruce.”

“What?”

“Call me, Bruce.”

Dick seemed to be taken aback for a moment. Confused. As if he couldn’t imagine someone like Bruce even trying to be courteous with him.

“Fine. _Bruce_. In one moment, you are throwing your son out of the Manor. The next, you are searching for him and even mobilizing Oracle and the Birds to help you. Your father threatened me just yesterday. And now you are having breakfast with me?”

Bruce cringed. He could understand Dick’s confusion.

“I’m sorry for my father’s actions”, Bruce said, “I told him that they weren’t acceptable.”

Dick stayed quiet. Shaking his head again and touching the bandage around his head. Exhaustion became apparent in his face. Bruce wondered what he had gone through in the last few weeks.

“Your injury?”, Bruce looked at the bandage.

Dick laughed joylessly: “An encounter with Professor Pyg.”

Bruce tensed. He hadn’t fought Pyg much. The villain had been more active during Dick’s time as Batman in his timeline. But Bruce had fought the villain often enough to know how depraved he was.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. You took a lot of risk upon you for sheltering Damian.”

“It’s more of my own fault I guess. Nothing to do with Damian”, Dick said, “My co-workers are scumbags actually and Pyg works with them. He got pissed when I collected evidence about their activities.”

Bruce’s heart was racing at the thought. Dick was still out there risking his life in this timeline. And this time, he had no Batman to teach him how to fight the evils of the world.

Bruce had unwittingly made his son more vulnerable by not training him. He should have accounted for this. Dick would always go after injustice in every timeline. All of his children would. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have become vigilantes. Bruce had only given them the tools. But in this timeline, they had none.

“There are quite a few people after me, Bruce”, Dick looked down at his tea, “But don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair before they become a problem for you.”

“None of that, Dick”, Bruce sounded more aggressive than he aimed to, “You are staying until you are safe.”

Bruce generally masked his fear with anger. But anger wasn’t appropriate here. Bruce had to stop acting like _this_ Dick was his son. Because he wasn’t. As much as it hurt, Bruce had to accept it. This version of Dick could only be a friend if Bruce was lucky. Not a son.

Dick’s head whipped up. He observed Bruce closely. Suspicion flaring up again.

“Thanks, I guess”, Dick leaned back, crossing his arms, “You are definitely working on your Dad-voice. So, good job.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say so he stayed quiet. He needed to be more careful. But being so close to his children while they didn’t recognize him made all kinds of emotions flare up within him. Bruce gritted his teeth. He had to get a grip on himself – even if it was hard.

*

Dick still couldn’t believe that he was eating breakfast with Bruce Wayne. The man seemed humbler than Dick had expected in his crinkled, black button-up. Eating the omelette Alfred had expertly made for them. Damian had definitely done a number on Wayne judging from his state of dishevelment.

Wayne apparently had made an effort to connect to Damian – even if it had more failed than it had succeeded. Dick could appreciate an effort.

Wayne was still strange though. He seemed concerned at times – about Dick of all people. Was this some kind of guilt? Maybe Wayne felt bad for sending Damian away which had caused Dick to end up in this situation in the first place. But there was more.

That hug yesterday. It had felt strangely personal. As if Wayne was hugging someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. Someone important. Dick certainly wasn’t that person. So, he didn’t know what Wayne’s deal was.

“Yesterday. Who did you mix me up with?”, Dick asked.

Wayne looked up. Tensing for a moment.

Dick probably had put his finger into a sensitive topic again. He had this habit apparently.

Dick would have backed off. But Wayne had been strangely interested in Dick’s own past. So, it was only fair.

Wayne cleared his throat: “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The hug? You said that your eyes weren’t the best. Who did you think you were seeing?”

“Are you interrogating me, Dick?”

“I guess so. But you interrogated me, too. So, it’s only fair.”

“You evaded my question. Remember?”

Dick chuckled. Wayne was more closed-off than he had expected from his media persona.

“And you are evading my question right now”, Dick bit back.

It was almost fun. Wayne was quick on his feet and he knew how to play verbal cat and mouse games. Dick suspected that there was more behind him than most people knew.

“Fine”, Bruce smiled.

It was a fond smile. Almost nostalgic.

Dick narrowed his eyes. Wayne was being strange again.

“You remind me a lot of a… friend I used to have. A very important one.”

“You haven’t seen him in a while?”

Bruce sighed, his shoulders slumping forward: “We had a bit of a falling out. It was not my best moment.”

“What did you do?”

“I expected too much of him without giving anything in return. I was a stubborn bastard. And he can be a stubborn bastard, too. He just hides it behind a smile.”

Dick laughed again: “A match made in heaven.”

“I guess so”, Wayne looked at the wall behind Dick, “I was too afraid to fix it. And here we are.”

“You should just do it.”

“What?”

“Fix it I mean. Just go see him and fix it.”

“How?”

“It sounds like you know him well. He’d probably appreciate the effort.”

Wayne bit his lip. Thinking.

Dick could see the darkness in his eyes. A calculating rationale.

Dick frowned. The more Dick interacted with Wayne, the more of an enigma he became. Wayne seemed thoughtful. Analytical. What was he analysing?

“You are putting up quite the act. I’m impressed. I believed it myself”, Dick said.

Wayne seemed confused again. And strangely nervous. He was tensing up, not saying anything.

Dick frowned when it became apparent that Wayne wouldn’t answer: “Brucie Wayne? Out of control heir? Media darling?”

Wayne visibly cringed: “I’ve always been a good actor.”

Dick wanted to dig deeper. He had to admit that he was intrigued. Wayne was a complex person.

But his phone rang. Dick tensed. This could only mean bad things. There were still two corpses in his flat that Dick didn’t know what to do with. What did you do with two corpses? Probably call the police. But Dick himself was screwed if he called the police. And Damian even more.

Maybe hide them? But this came akin to an admission of guilt. And Dick was many things but not a murderer. Well, he had almost killed Zucco. But this had been of the angry revenge kind. Dick wasn’t this meticulous serial killer type that planned how to get rid of two corpses.

Dick took out his phone looking at the caller ID. He audibly breathed out when he saw it was Jason.

Dick took the call: “Jay. How are you-“

“Don’t _Jay_ me”, Jason sounded pissed, “You said you’d call me before you went on your trip.”

“About that – we aren’t on our trip yet.”

“Then, why is your flat deserted except of the two visitors here?”

“That’s a funny story. Really”, Dick cleared his throat, looking at Wayne.

Wayne seemed interested. His gaze was directed at the plate, but Dick could see that he was listening.

“All right”, Dick told Jason about the whole Professor Pyg-thing and how they had ended up at Wayne Manor.

“Holy shit”, Jason cursed, “You almost got your brain turned into a smoothie?”

“If you say it like that, it sounds very bad.”

“It sounds bad because it _is_ bad. How do you even stumble into these situations? Are you not supposed to be the one that has his act together?”

Dick shrugged: “It just happens I guess. Maybe the universe just wants to kill me.”

“Don’t even joke about that. You are jinxing yourself.”

“Are you being superstitious, Jay? How cute”, Dick teased.

“I just think you need all the luck you can get”, there was a snap that suspiciously sounded like rubber gloves.

Dick frowned. Alarmed.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“ _Cleaning up_ after your visitors of course. Someone has to do it.”

Dick didn’t even know how to process this. He stood up leaving Wayne behind at the dining table. Dick needed some fresh air. The garden of the Manor would do.

“Wait, wait”, Dick said, “You don’t need to _clean up_ after me. I don’t want you to get mixed up in this.”

“Don’t worry, Dickhead. I have a lot of cleaning experience. And you sound like you need some help.”

“What do you mean _a lot of cleaning experience_?”

This was more than a little disturbing. What else had Jason hidden from him?

“What do you think I did for _him_?”

Jason was undoubtedly talking about Black Mask.

“You were in jail for a robbery”, Dick dropped the metaphors for a moment, “You told me that you stole stuff for him and sold it again. Cars?”

Jason was silent for a moment.

“Well”, he sounded slightly guilty, “I did that and some cleaning stuff.”

“Holy shit, Jason”, Dick couldn’t keep the hint of anger out of his voice, “What did you help him cover up?”

“It’s not that important.”

“Not important? What the hell-“

“Listen, Dick. I get that you are upset. I’m not proud of what I did. But I was in a desperate situation and it was the only way to keep myself afloat. You get that, don’t you?”

Dick closed his eyes, taking a deep breath: “I do.”

“Mask taught me a lot of stuff. And I will use it, if it helps cover your ass.”

Dick shook his head. This was just crazy. What had his life become? But it was also strangely sweet that Jason would literally hide corpses for him.

“Thanks, Jay”, Dick said, “I owe you like a thousand things.”

“Nah”, Jason said, “Let’s just say we’re even for that bail.”

“It wasn’t that much money.”

“Maybe not. But it was significant. It was your savings for getting out of this hellhole one day.”

Dick bit his lip. He could hear sounds from the other side of the phone. The rustling of a plastic sheet and something heavy being dragged over the floor. Dick shuddered.

Jason didn’t seem to stop in his movements. He knew what he was doing.

“I love you, bro”, Dick said.

“You are so sappy”, Jason said.

“Don’t act like you are above it”, Dick said with a smile on his face.

“… I love you, too, bro”, Jason had one of his sincere moments.

Dick laughed: “See? You are an even bigger sap than I am. Admit it. Remember that Jane Austen collection I found under your mattress in Juvie?”

“I won’t let you shame me for my passions”, Jason sounded mock-offended.

“You know that I always support your passions, Jay. Well… all of them that don’t involve _cleaning_.”

“I never enjoyed it, Dick. I hated it”,

The light atmosphere was gone within the second.

“I know”, Dick said

“So, you are living the best live at Wayne’s? I don’t know if I should be jealous or pity you.”

“Not for long”, Dick lowered his voice, “I can’t stay in Gotham.”

“Hell no”, Jason said, “I hung out in some of the bars. Your ass is wanted by at least five different heavy hitters who are fearing for their kid supply.”

“Shit”, Dick ran his hand through his hair, “You want to come with me?”

“Leave Gotham together?”, Jason said, “I don’t think I’ve ever left city limits.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want-“

“I’m coming”, Jason said, “What about the kid?”

Dick looked towards the house: “It depends on whether I trust them. And what Damian wants.”

“All right. See you”, Jason grunted.

It sounded like he was dragging something heavy over the floor.

“See you”, Dick ended the call.

His heart was racing. This day had already been strangely eventful.

*

Jason panted after he had heaved as he pulled the second body towards an acid vat. They really needed a crane or something here again. It would make things far more convenient.

Jason kicked the second body into the vat. Dick’s scumbag of a co-worker was sucked into the acid. He would disintegrate in a manner of seconds.

He was standing in a seemingly abandoned factory. Ace Chemicals. Below him, was the giant acid vat that all of Gotham’s goons used to dump bodies for their bosses.

The origin of this vat was more mundane than one would expect. Nothing exciting. They had just collectively decided one day that it would make things easier for all of them. It would also lead to less goons being shot by their enraged bosses when the police found the dumped bodies that turned up in Gotham river.

“Jason?”, someone said, “Is that you?”

Jason turned around. He faced a guy who was pulling another wrapped body towards the edge. The guy looked a like a stereotypical goon. Tall. Bulky. Nondescript.

Jason tried to remember the guy’s name. He was one of Two Face’s – which automatically made him crazy because who the hell opted to work for Two-Face? The lunatic would just shoot you if he one of his halves felt like it. Mask at least left you alone if you did good work.

“Holy shit”, goon said, “I haven’t seen you in forever. I thought you stopped working for Mask.”

“I did”, Jason said.

“So, you’re here for personal business?”, the goon laughed, while he shoved his unfortunate victim into the vat, “Who managed to piss you off?”

“He messed with a friend of mine. A close one.”

“Stupid mistake. You don’t mess with family”, goon shook his head, “Aprobos friend. You remember that Grayson-guy?”

“He used to be my cell partner in Juvie”, Jason tried to sound detached.

“Yeah”, goon said, “I feel like all of Gotham is looking for him because apparently he is a snitch? Became a real goody two-shoes apparently.”

“Annoying”, Jason said.

“So annoying”, goon rolled his eyes, “But that’s not the only reason people are looking for him.”

Jason tensed. This wasn’t good.

“There’s some lady. Arabic?”, goon said, “Really fucking hot. The chick is looking for him because apparently Grayson is hiding her son.”

This was not good at all. How did Talia know that Damian was with Dick?

  
“How does she know?”

Goon shrugged: “Pyg got his hands on Grayson for a bit. The Birds of Prey sent that crazy shit to Arkham. But apparently, he overheard something about Grayson hiding the kid because he’s been squeaking.”

“Did he say something else?”

Goon shrugged: “The chick has been turning Gotham underground in and out. Looking for Grayson and her son. She put out a huge reward. You know anything for a chance?”

Jason could see the greed glimmer in his eyes.

“I don’t”, Jason said.

“You sound quite invested. You still with Grayson?”

“No”, Jason shrugged, “Grayson’s always been a crazy bastard. I’m not hanging with that.”

“He has to be a crazy bastard to have the whole Gotham underground after him”, goon laughed, “The freak isn’t gonna make it until the weekend. We’ve already got a betting pool for when he bites the bullet.”

Jason laughed and returned to his motorcycle: “I gotta join in then. Grayson is enough of a tenacious bastard to make it after the weekend.”

Goon laughed: “I hope not. That would screw up my bet. See you, Jason.”

Goon hefted another body out of the car. It was far from the last one. Jason felt sick. He couldn’t believe that he had let himself be pulled into this horrific world where people were slaughtered and disposed as if they didn’t mean anything. But he had been desperate and Mask had approached Jason in one of his lowest moments.

Jason couldn’t say that he was out. Creating and selling fake passports was far from a legal activity. But it wasn’t as low as cleaning up Mask’s crime scenes and dumping his victims where no one could find them.

Running away with Dick seemed like the only option. The best option. Dick was offering Jason a way out without even knowing it. And Jason would take it gladly.

“See you”, Jason lied.

He put on his motorcycle helmet, leaving goon behind.

Jason had to get to Wayne Manor – even if he wasn’t eager to venture there. His brief history with Wayne wasn’t the best. But Dick potentially being in danger was more important than Jason’s reluctance.

They needed to leave the country now before Talia could find them. Dick was dead if she got to them for daring to hide her son. Jason did not know much about Talia al Ghul. But Mask had once said that she was a terrifying woman who was not to be trifled with. Mask was a sadist, but he knew how to spot a threat.

Their only chance was to run away now and to leave Damian with the Waynes. Talia probably wouldn’t care enough about Dick to track him across the world. She would be satisfied once she had her son back.

Jason raced across the Gotham streets, moving between the cars and using every tiny gap. Angry honks echoed after him. He would have to convince Dick to leave Damian behind.

Otherwise, they stood no chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Jason Todd has joined the chat. And he has to convince Dick to leave Damian behind - which is certainly a task. How good are his odds? Seriously though, Jason deserves a best-friend award. Literally hiding two bodies for Dick is certainly up there.
> 
> It's always fun to think about how goons experience this crazy world of heroes and villains. I love to think that they are just used to it and that they all silently judge each other for which villain they join up with. Who voluntarily would join up with the Joker? Or Two-Face?   
> I think Poison Ivy is a relatively good choice (she won't kill you as long as you are nice to her plants) and Selina of course if she hires. Penguin might be fine, too, because he's more of a greedy businessman. Jason is daring though for joining up with Black Mask. The guy is seriously dark.


	8. Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Damian bond. They try to convince Dick to leave without Damian. Dick admits that Damian means more to him than he might have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big chapter. Everyone is in one place and tensions are running high.
> 
> Warning for: Discussions of abuse (nothing graphic)

Jason pulled up at the front gates of Wayne Manor. He huffed when he saw the delicate iron ornaments. The golden _W_ seemed just a tad too much. But Jason was just a tasteless peasant. Who was he to judge?

Maybe he should pick the lock. It was intricate but Jason had cracked worse things for Mask.

Jason sighed. He did not have the patience to pick this lock right now. So, he rang the bell like a sane person.

The voice of an elderly man came out of the speaker: _“Wayne Residence?”_

Jason suppressed another scoff and forced a smile on his face for the cameras: “Hi there. I’m a friend of Dick’s. Jason Todd?”

_“One second please.”_

Jason drummed impatiently on the handle of his bike. He suspected that the old guy was asking Dick about him.

Jason felt for the gun in his pocket. He would need it if Talia was to turn up.

 _  
"Please enter”,_ the gates buzzed and opened.

Jason drove his motorcycle up the gravel path. The way seemed to go on forever and Jason rolled his eyes at this waste of perfectly good space.

Jason stopped in front of the main house leaving his bike behind. It was probably safer here than at any other place in Gotham. Jason expected Dick to hurry out of the house. Instead, he was greeted with Damian’s scowl. Oh joy.

“Hey brat”, Jason said, “Where is Dickhead?”

“He retreated to the guest room to think. I intercepted Pennyworth on his way to him”, Damian stepped out of the house.

Jason frowned: “Great. Then, let’s go see Dick.”

Damian frowned and pulled Jason towards the gardens: “I wish to know why you are here, Todd.”

“Are you his guard dog now?”, Jason said.

They walked through the wide gardens. Jason suspected that you could stroll around in here for a day.

Damian bit his lip: “Grayson is not like you and me. He is very fragile. The encounter with the _pig_ shook him greatly. So, it is more effective for me to make the decisions.”

It was weirdly adorable how Damian was trying to protect Dick in his prickly way.

Jason chuckled: “Wow. You don’t know Dick if you believe he is some delicate flower.”

Damian scowled.

“Really”, Jason said, “Dick got up to some shit when he was younger. He acts all innocent, but he causes more trouble than any of us. All of Gotham underground is after him.”

“I assume you are not merely here to chat, Todd.”

“Nope”, Jason pulled out a cigarette, “I took care of the mess you made. You can thank me by the way.”

“You hid the bodies?”

“Not just hiding. I disintegrated them in acid. No one’s ever gonna find them.”

Damian frowned, surprised for just a moment. He schooled his features.

“I do not like you, Todd. However, I have to admit that you are not completely useless.”

  
Jason lighted his cigarette: “I talked to an old acquaintance. Your mother knows that Dick is hiding you.”

Damian paled, his façade dropping away: “How?”

“Pyg talked in Arkham”, Jason said, “You understand that Dick is in some deep shit because of you?”

“Mother will not allow for a slight to the al Ghul-honour. She will kill Grayson if she finds him.”

“I thought the same”, Jason puffed out some smoke, “Good that we are on the same page, Demon.”

Damian shook his head: “I do not wish for Grayson to be killed for my sake.”

His speech remained formal. But Jason could hear a tremble in his voice. Damian was scared.

A part of him was angry at Damian for bringing Dick into this shit. But another part of Jason knew that Dick had no self-preservation and would always find trouble on his own.

Also, Jason knew what it was like to have… not-so-great parents. His mother had been mentally absent most of the times. Lost to drugs. And Willis? You didn’t want Willis to get angry.

Jason _wanted_ to just ignore Damian in all this. Jason was a survivor. He had painstakingly learned that each attachment made it harder to survive.

Dick himself was an attachment Jason _shouldn’t_ allow himself. But here he was. Hiding corpses for the guy and risking a second place on the hitlist of Gotham’s underground. And Jason couldn’t even get himself to regret it. He would always hide those bodies because maybe he was more of a sap than he wanted to admit.

And maybe Damian managed to _slightly_ appeal to Jason’s sappy side.

“Listen, kid”, Jason put a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

Damian didn’t even attempt to shove it away.

Jason forced the words out: “This is not your fault. None of this. Your family are assholes.”

Damian opened his mouth as if to protest.

“No discussion. They turned you into a fucking assassin”, Jason took another drag of his cigarette, “I may know a few things about shitty families.”

“I wouldn’t have expected, Todd”, Damian bit back.

But Jason could see that he was lashing out. It lacked any true malice.

“I ran away, too, when I was around your age.” _And didn’t that make Jason feel old._

Damian stayed quiet, listening intently for a change.

“I know what it’s like”, Jason said, “It’s fucking scary. But you are so desperate to get away, you don’t even care. And I mean it when I say: You are never at fault for getting away from your abuser.”

Damian stayed still. His thoughts were racing. He seemed to genuinely consider Jason’s words – which was surprising.

“You think my family was abusive?”, Damian sounded confused. _So small._

Maybe it broke Jason’s heart – but only slightly.

“The training your mother put you through. Making you kill people. That’s not okay.”

Damian stayed quiet.

Jason scoffed: “My father never made me kill people. But he loved to take his anger out on me.”

Jason pulled up his shirt slightly, revealing the pinkish patches of skin on his stomach: “He was really pissed of that day – and drunk. I think because the Gotham Knights lost the championship. Some stupid reason. So, he poured boiling water over me. Doctor Leslie patched me up. I’ve never seen her so worried ever again – no matter what kind of shit I pulled later. But that was the last straw. The reason I ran away.”

Damian inspected the scars closely. His voice was quiet, controlled when he said: “I am sorry this happened to you, Todd.”

His voice became even quieter when he said: “I have scars, too. Especially on my back.”

Damian did not elaborate further. He didn’t need to.

They were silent for a moment. Jason took a bit to process this and to reign in his anger.

Jason nodded: “I am sorry that you went through this, Damian.”

Damian continued walking. This time towards the house. Jason halted for a moment. He couldn’t believe it. He was getting attached, too. Shit.

“We need to talk to Grayson”, Damian turned around, crossing his arms impatiently, “Convince him to leave the country with you. I assume that is the reason you are here?”

Jason bit his lip. This had been the reason he had come here. But now he didn’t know if he could go through with it. Leaving Damian behind when the kid was clearly very attached to Dick and had no one else? It would have devastated Jason at that age.

Still, Jason nodded.

They walked up the stairs. Jason almost gleefully walked with his muddy boots over the carpet. He took a lot of satisfaction in messing up Wayne’s carpet after the jerk had more or less messed up his life.

Damian opened Dick’s door without knocking. Entitled, little shit. But Jason had to admit that he had endearing qualities – _very_ deep down.

Dick was sitting on the bed looking down at his hands. Probably questioning his life choices.

“Jason?”, Dick looked up.

Jason stayed still and let Dick hug him. Acting nonchalant about it and continuing to smoke his cigarette. He still had an image to maintain.

“Hey, Dickface”, Jason said, “I’m here to clean up your mess again.”

  
Guilt flickered over Dick’s face.

“I’m so-“

  
“Don’t you dare apologize”, Jason plopped down on the bed, “You are in some deep shit. I’m almost impressed by how you managed to piss off so many people, Mr. Clean. I would applaud you if it wouldn’t certainly sign your death certificate.”

Dick ran his hand through his hair. He paced through the room while Jason told him about Talia. Jason was increasingly worried about Dick’s mental state. It was showing some significant cracks.

“Gotham underground has a betting pool on when I bite the bullet? Me?”, Dick halted for a moment.

  
“Really?”, Jason flicked his cigarette into the bin, “That is what you chose to take away from this? Not that a fucking assassin lady is after you?”

“Well, she won’t know that we are here, will she?”, Dick started pacing again, “We are hiding in plain sight.”

“That is correct”, Damian said, “Mother would believe Wayne to be too incompetent to hide us.”

“See?”, Dick sounded more than a little desperate, “We are safe.”

Jason wanted to rip out his hair: “Maybe now. But eventually, Talia will come looking again. And we should be deep into Argentina by then.”

“We can leave once I know Damian is safe”, Dick balled his fists.

“Please, Grayson”, Damian’s pleading was surprising, “I do not wish you to further risk your life for my sake.”

“You heard the bra- kid”, Jason said, “If we leave now without Damian, Talia likely won’t care about you. You are just a tiny speck of dirt on her radar.”

“Charming, Jay”, Dick said.

“We need to leave”, Jason insisted.

“I don’t trust the Waynes with Damian yet”, Dick said, “I just need a few days more.”

“We don’t have a few more days.”

“I just can’t do it”, Dick said, “I can’t leave him.”

There was pure determination in Dick’s eyes. And something else. Jason couldn’t read it.

“Give us a moment, kid”, Jason turned to Damian.

Damian looked like he wanted to protest.

“Please?”, Dick said.

Damian huffed and left the room.

  
“And don’t eavesdrop”, Jason screamed after him.

He turned to Dick: “Come on. What is going on?”

“I’m making sure that Damian is safe. It’s my job.”

  
Jason scoffed: “This is getting far past professional curtesy. This is a suicide mission.”

Dick sighed and sat down on the bed next to Jason: “Maybe. I get where you are coming from. But I would never forgive myself if I just left him without knowing that the Waynes are fine.”

“His father certainly put a lot of effort into finding him.”

“He did”, Dick frowned, “Wayne seems to try. I’m not sure about the grandparents though.”

“See?”, Jason said, “Bruce will take care of him – as much as it pains me to say because I really can’t stand the guy.”

“What do you have against Wayne?”, Dick asked.

“It’s not important now”, Jason said, “Instead, we should focus on the fact that you are playing _Dad_ when it comes to Damian.”

“That’s ridiculous”, Dick said.

“Is it?”

“It is. Just because I care for him like I do for all my foster kids-“

Jason scoffed, breaking him off mid-sentence: “Don’t bullshit me. You become all concerned when it comes to him. And you talk about him as if he is some lost puppy and the greatest kid to ever run on this earth.”

“He is lost.”

“But he has a family. A father who wants to take care of him apparently”, Jason said.

Dick sighed and looked at the floor.

“Did you ever consider that maybe you are suspicious of the Waynes because you are jealous?”

“Really, Jason? Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

Dick’s anger said enough. Jason knew a deflection when he saw it.

“You wouldn’t let go off Damian even if Wayne was fucking Mary Poppins.”

Dick looked like he wanted to protest again. But he closed his mouth.

Jason wanted to smile in triumph. But he stopped when he saw how sad Dick looked.

“Maybe you are right”, Dick’s voice was quiet, “Maybe I got a bit more attached than is good.”

Jason stayed quiet, waiting for Dick to order his thoughts.

“I- I just liked it. Not being alone for a change”, Dick said, “Having a purpose that doesn’t involve work. I _like_ seeing Damian happy.”

Jason pressed his eyes shut. He hadn’t known that Dick felt so lonely. But it was logical if you thought about it. Dick didn’t belong in Gotham. He never had. Dick was a fucking circus-kid and nothing was more crushing to his spirit than a city that didn’t want him.

“Sometimes I didn’t know why I even bothered getting up”, Dick continued, “Because no one cared. And no one stayed.”

“I care”, Jason said.

Dick closed his eyes: “I know. I guess I’m just being selfish because I want more than one person to care. I miss having a family. We only had each other at the circus. It was comforting. A whole camp of people that cared about you. I just miss it so much.”

Dick wiped away the tears in his eyes, suppressing them.

“I guess Damian reminds me of it”, Dick said, “He deserves better.”

“He does deserve better – even if he is a little demon brat.”

“One day, Jay”, Dick looked at Jason with puppy eyes, “What can go wrong?”

“You know that you are basically jinxing yourself?”

“I can’t just leave him like that”, Dick said.

“And one day is gonna make it better?”

Dick bit his lip: “It’s for emotional preparation.”

“I feel like you are just stalling.”

“Please, Jay. What do I have to do for you to agree?”

Jason sighed: “You really love this kid, don’t you?”

“I do”, Dick said.

Jason was about to protest at this point because Dick was clearly not thinking straight. But he couldn’t when he saw the sadness in Dick’s eyes and the pain in Damian’s voice. Their separation would hurt but maybe a day couldn’t hurt to give both of them some closure.

“Fine”, Jason said, “But you owe me a pack of cigarettes. Two actually.”

*

Bruce was on the way to his room when he saw Damian not so-subtly listening against Dick’s door. Damian’s face was scrunched up in concentration. Less guarded than Bruce was used to. It was adorable and Bruce hoped that one day Damian would dare to be this open in front of him again.

“Hey”, Bruce smiled at Damian.

Damian shushed him with a dismissive swat of his hand. Apparently, Bruce wasn’t the only one who had his issues with privacy.

Bruce could hear steps behind the door. Damian sneaked away, innocently leaning against the wall.

The door opened and Bruce’s breath hitched when he saw-

“JASON?”, Bruce said.

His son looked almost the same as in the old timeline. And - with satisfaction - Bruce saw that there was no white streak in his hair. This Jason had not died. Bruce must have done something right to ensure that his son had survived into adulthood.

Jason halted, his face twisting into anger: “I wouldn’t have expected you to recognize me, old man.”

Great. Bruce winced. What had he done again? Or rather: What had _Brucie_ done again?

“You know him?”, Dick frowned, “What the fuck, Jay?”

“Oh, I know his stupid face”, Jason aggressively dragged on his cigarette.

Dick looked at him with crossed arms in a gesture that screamed for an explanation. Bruce was glad that Dick didn’t know about their past either. He’d rather not have Jason scream at him for something Bruce didn’t even know he had done wrong.

“I didn’t think it was important”, Jason shrugged, “And I didn’t want to waste another breath on this stupid prick.”

  
“Spit it out, Todd”, Damian said.

“You know how I ended up in Juvie”, Jason said.

“You said you tried to steal some hubcaps from some rich prick.”

“Allow me to introduce you to said rich prick”, Jason gestured at Bruce, “He caught me. I tried to run away and instead of leaving me be, he sent his damn bodyguards after me like I was a fucking dog. They got me. End of story.”

Bruce groaned inwardly. Brucie would be the death of him. How many relationships with his kids had Brucie inwardly screwed up? If Brucie hadn’t been such a jerk, Bruce could have adopted Jason and kept Damian safe in the first place.

“I’m very sorry for this, Jason”, Bruce said, “I should have adopted you then.”

“No, thank you”, Jason glared at him.

Bruce suddenly felt very tired. He rubbed his eyes.

“Really, it was a jerk move of me to send you to Juvie”, Bruce said, “You were a helpless child.”

Jason didn’t take kindly to that: “Call me that one more time-“

Dick cleared his throat: “How about we all calm down? For what it’s worth, Juvie wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

Jason smirked at Dick: “We rocked that thing.”

“Wait”, Bruce looked at Dick, “You were in Juvie?”

He assumed that Jason had been a teenager when he had tried to steal the hubcaps just like in the original timeline. Dick must have been like 17 for them to meet in Juvie. Bruce couldn’t believe that Dick spent his whole childhood there. He refused to believe it.

“Second time. First time wasn’t my fault - in my defence. Second time definitely was.”

The first time must be after his parents had died. But second time?

“For what?”, Bruce asked.

Dick smiled sheepishly. He didn’t answer.

“Dickhead here went back for aggravated battery”, Jason said.

“Should have been attempted murder really”, Dick muttered under his breath, “But I lucked out. And going to Juvie for aggravated battery is quite sweet because no one will dare to pick a fight with you.”

Bruce couldn’t help but stare at Dick. He hadn’t expected _this_. Especially not because this version of his son seemed so well-adjusted.

“Tt. Why only attempted murder, Grayson?”, Damian said, “I’m disappointed.”

Dick laughed and ruffled Damian’s hair. Damian swatted his hand away.

Bruce would smile if the revelation of Dick’s criminal past wasn’t so shocking. His sons were bickering like Bruce was used to.

“I’m really happy you are all here”, Bruce said, “I want to make it all up to you.”

  
“Tt. You don’t make any sense, Wayne.”

“Gotta agree with the demon”, Jason said.

“You will understand one day”, this time, Bruce allowed himself to smile.

*

Martha Wayne was worried about her family. Thomas was too caught up in seeing Damian as a potential heir – and Bruce had always been to naïve for his own good. She didn’t know where she had gone wrong to make her son so incompetent in facing life. Maybe she had spoiled him too much.

Bruce’s recent change was welcome. Still, Martha wasn’t sure about whether it would last. And she didn’t like that Damian was the catalyst for his change.

The boy seemed well-educated but peculiar. Martha roughly knew about the al Ghul’s business. Their dealings in the shadier side of things. Their League of Assassins generated billions of profit every year. Damian was destined to take it over.

Martha had not approved of Bruce’s liaison with Talia. The al Ghuls were dangerous and their dealings morally reprehensible. It went against Martha’s humanitarian principles. Thomas had also been sceptical. However, his scepticism had not kept him from seeing the potential of an al Ghul/Wayne-alliance.

Both of them were naïve in their own way. Bruce in his blind infatuation. And Thomas in believing that the Waynes would be the winners in an alliance with the al Ghuls. So, it fell to Martha to protect her family. It was time to talk from one mother to another.

The black limousine with the tinted windows drove up the street in front of the headquarters of the Martha Wayne Foundation. A man in a dark suit exited the car and opened the back door for Martha. Martha entered, sitting down across from Talia.

She looked majestic in her dark green garb. Talia’s eyes examined Martha with the assurance that she was untouchable. Martha could understand why Bruce had been fascinated. Still, Talia was a different league from the women he usually associated himself with. She was as powerful as him – probably even more so – and she wouldn’t soak up his words without question.

“Mrs. Wayne”, Talia’s voice was pleasant with a slight accent.

“Ms. Al Ghul”, Martha nodded in respect, “I am glad that you followed my call.”

  
“I have to admit that I was intrigued. Why did you wish to speak to me?”

“I thought that we could speak from one mother to another”, Martha said.

Talia waved at her driver to start the car. They drove through Gotham. It was getting dark. Soon, it would be too dangerous to go out anymore.

“I have been looking for Damian”, Talia looked slightly pained, almost vulnerable, “My son does not know what he wants. He is too young. One day, he will understand that I only had his best intentions in mind.”

Martha doubted that. She knew how strict the methods of the al Ghuls were.

Still, she nodded: “I understand. I would be stricken with worry if Bruce were to vanish.”

“Do you have information about my son?”

“I do”, Martha said, “But I would like a reassurance first.”

Talia smirked: “I see. You know how to conduct business, Mrs. Wayne.”

“I would like reassurance that my family stays unharmed. You understand my wish to protect them?”

“I do”, Talia said, “Damian perceives me as strict. But he doesn’t even know the kinds of dangers I am keeping at bay to protect him. He is only confronted with the threats I believe him ready to handle. His escape unwittingly removed him from my sphere of influence.”

Martha nodded: “I tell you where your son is and in turn, no one is to be harmed?”

“No one who carries the _Wayne_ -name shall be harmed”, Talia said, “Assassin’s promise.”

Martha let out a breath of relief: “Damian is currently at Wayne Manor under the protection of the Birds of Prey.”

Talia tensed, something in her eyes flickering.

She gestured at her driver: “We shall retrieve him and finalize our agreement.”

*

Dick wasn’t sure if he could do this. Before dinner, he tugged Damian to the side to break the news to him that Dick himself couldn’t bear.

“We should talk about this in your room”, Dick tried to forfeit the conversation.

Damian crossed his arms: “I am not a child, Grayson. I do not need to be cuddled.”

Dick sighed and crouched in front of Damian. They would do this here in the middle of the entry hall.

“You mean a lot to me, Dami”, Dick said, “We went through some shit together.”

“Get to the point, Grayson.”

The words were stuck in his words. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave Damian behind. Somehow, he had gotten used to his presence in the last few weeks.

“I-“

Damian balled his fist in frustration: “I listened in. I know that Todd and you are leaving tomorrow. It is the right decision for your safety, Grayson.”

“But how do you feel about it, Dami?”

Damian frowned. Confused. He looked so young. Dick’s chest ached. He wanted to take Damian with him. But he couldn’t. It would just get both of them into more danger.

The Waynes had more resources to keep Damian safe.

“My feelings about this matter are not important”, Damian said.

“They are important to me.”

“You are strange, Grayson.”

To Dick’s surprise, Damian went in for a hug. Dick put his arms around Damian, pulling him close. He savored these last moments with Damian.

“Was Todd right when he said that you had developed fatherly attachments towards me?”

Dick’s throat felt dry. How was he supposed to answer to this? He bit his lip, thinking about how to navigate this loaded question. He couldn’t even answer it himself. How was he supposed to explain it to a child?

“For what it’s worth, I think you would make a great father, Grayson”, Damian was not looking at him, still caught in the hug.

Dick felt his eyes tear up. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave Damian. But he had to. Damian already had a father who was trying. Bruce deserved a second chance even if he had screwed up the first one.

“Thank you, Dami”, was the only thing Dick managed to croak out.

“We were the best, Richard”, Damian loosened himself from the hug, “I shall remember our time fondly.”

“Me, too”, Dick felt stupid because his words were letting him down.

Without another word, Damian walked towards the dining room. Dick took a moment to compose himself. Soaking in deep breaths. Then, he followed Damian.

*

When Thomas returned home that night, the house was more crowded than usual. They – or rather Bruce - had a new visitor with the name of Jason Todd as Alfred informed him at the door.

All their visitors were grouped around the dining room and Thomas frowned at the lively discussions. He had always wished for a larger family. However, his engagements in Wayne enterprises and Martha’s projects had not allowed them to have more children than Bruce.

“Mr. Todd, I assume”, Thomas looked at the young man sitting at his table.

He looked like a typical young delinquent with his leather jacket and the pack of cigarettes that peaked out of his pocket. Thomas vaguely remembered Todd’s name. It took a while to recall him as the young boy that had gone to Juvie after attempting to steal Bruce’s hubcaps.

Thomas to this day did not know what Bruce had done in Crime Alley. He assumed that he had been there to see a woman. Typical. Bruce had no sense of responsibility.

“Yeah”, Jason leaned further back, looking at Thomas with interest, “I’m a friend of Dick’s.”

“And why are you here?”

“Jason-“, Bruce cleared his throat, “Mr. Todd had some vital information to share with us.”

“You can thank me by the way”, Jason said, “Talia knows that Dick is hiding Damian. It’s only a question of time until she finds out Damian is here.”

Thomas frowned, already going over the implications this information provided: “I see.”

Thomas sat down at the dinner table.

Alfred served supper: “I opted for a vegetarian meal to accommodate the young Master al Ghul’s preferences.”

  
Damian frowned in surprise. But he stayed quiet. The boy seemed oddly reclusive tonight. Thomas had not taken him to be shy.

Martha’s chair was uncharacteristically empty.

“Where is my wife?”, Thomas asked.

“Mistress Wayne should still be at the Foundation”, Alfred said, “Probably a busy day.”

“Most likely”, Thomas looked at Bruce.

His son seemed relaxed. He looked at their visitors with a fondness that Thomas found hard to explain. Jason and Damian bickered over the table. Thomas found their temperament to be quite similar.

The purple girl from the Birds of Prey also seemed uncharacteristically quiet. She ignored the discussion of her fellow Birds had and kept her arms crossed. Thomas vaguely took note of it. But he was not interested in the internal dynamics of the vigilantes.

Jason’s and Damian’s debate became more heated. Thomas could barely gauge what they were fighting about.

Damian reached for his cutlery. Grayson intervened before the situation could escalate. He wrangled the knife out of Damian’s hand. Thomas assumed that Damian let him because the boy was far too capable to let his weapon be taken by a civilian.

“No stabbing, Damian”, Grayson said.

Damian scowled: “Let me disembowel Todd, Grayson. He deserves it.”

“He doesn’t. Well… Most of the times. And we don’t kill people.”

“Tt”, Damian crossed his arms, “Fine. I shall leave Todd alive – for now.”

“You sound like such a Dad”, the purple girl joked.

The bickering seemed to have lightened her mood somewhat.

Damian and Grayson both tensed. This, Thomas paid more attention to. He had been aware of the attachment Grayson fostered towards his grandchild. It could potentially be dangerous.

Grayson did not react to the girl’s statement, instead looking down at his soup.

Thomas stayed quiet during dinner. He continued observing, His contacts had taken the day to find out all the information possible about Richard Grayson’s life. Thomas needed to know whom he was working with.

Grayson was an honourable man. He had developed a strong sense of integrity after experiencing the evils of humanity first-hand. Thomas could respect that. He could also respect Grayson’s wish to protect Damian. Thomas had a similar aim. He wanted Damian unharmed and as a part of his family.

Too bad that Grayson’s persistence could become a real obstacle because of Bruce’s lack of competence. Thomas welcomed the change in his son. Still, he did not believe it to be permanent. Bruce would slip up. Grayson would see and then he would never allow Damian to stay with them. It was inevitable.

Thomas needed to act now before Bruce had the opportunity to screw up. So, he approached Grayson after dinner was over.

“Mr. Grayson, do you wish to join me for a game of chess in the sitting room?”

“Sure”, Grayson frowned in surprise.

Jason looked at Grayson. Grayson nodded slightly at him, indicating him to stay down.

Grayson followed Thomas into the sitting room.

They sat down across from each other. The board was standing on the table.

“White or black, Mr. Grayson?”

“Black I guess.”

“You do not wish to have the advantage of going first?”

Grayson shrugged: “I have no idea what I’m doing anyway. So, might as well.”

Thomas hummed. He went first.

Grayson looked at the pieces. Frowning.

“Do you even know how the game works?”, Thomas asked.

“Chess wasn’t really the fashionable game when I was younger. I know like a dozen card games though. I assume that you looked up my history. So, you’ll know why.”

Thomas nodded. He started explaining the game to Grayson.

Grayson listened intently. He was a quick study. But he was no match for Thomas. Thomas defeated him the next three times, always explaining to him what he had done wrong.

Grayson did not complain. He simply hummed in agreement and tried another strategy next time. Another thing that Thomas could respect.

“What do you want, Thomas?”, Grayson said, “You aren’t someone to waste time.”

Thomas noted that he had gone from Mr. Wayne to Thomas.

“Do you know when you wish to leave?”

Grayson tensed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion: “You seem very eager to get rid of me.”

Thomas nodded: “I like you, Richard. You have a lot of integrity. I would value that in you if you were to work for me.”

“Thanks, I guess”, Richard moved his queen in a way that Thomas knew would lead to defeat.

“My son has a good heart, but he can be misguided and impulsive.”

“Bruce doesn’t seem impulsive to me.”

“Damian’s appearance has changed him”, Thomas said, “I fear that it will just be a temporary change.”

  
“You don’t have a lot of confidence in him.”

“If you knew Bruce like I do, you would understand my apprehensions. I love my son with my full heart, but he has been a source for a great deal of disappointment”, Thomas used his knight to take Richard’s queen, “Check.”

Richard’s kind had nowhere to go. It was over.

  
“Charming”, Richard moved his bishop and took one of Thomas’ pawns.

“When we keep Damian, I expect to hire a slew of nannies who can take the more taxing parts of parenthood off Bruce’s shoulders.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“How much do you want, Richard? I can write you a considerable check right now for you to leave Damian alone.”

Richard halted and looked up: “Trying to bribe me doesn’t really give me confidence in your parenting abilities.”

“Everyone has a prize.”

“In your world maybe. In mine: Nope”, Richard uselessly moved his king to the side.

Thomas sighed. He had hoped to not have to do this move.

“Bruce has been inconsolably searching for his poor son”, Thomas said, “He’s been desperate. You hid Damian from him.”

The accusation seemed to get under Richard’s skin: “I kept Damian safe after your son threw him out. He was injured. He needed help and I gave it to him.”

Richard looked at Thomas. There was a genuineness in his eyes that Thomas found endearing. Still, it wouldn’t save Richard from losing in a game that he wasn’t equipped to play.

“We both know that it’s true. But will anyone believe you over me and my family? Especially with your _history_. I can crush you with one phone call, Richard. Don’t force me to do it.”

Richard shook his head incredulously. He looked very close to breaking. It was exactly where Thomas wanted him.

So, Thomas kept pushing: “You don’t have any family, do you? Quite unfortunate. You are completely on your own with barely any resources. They’ll charge you with the abduction of a minor. I’ll turn up with one of the best attorneys of this country – scratch that – the world. Can you even afford an attorney?”

From one second into another, Richard’s face twisted into vicious anger. He lashed out, swiping the game off the table. The pieces spread throughout the room. A considerable show of temper.

“Did this little attempt at control satisfy you?”, Thomas asked - unimpressed.

“You know that I just talked to Damian?”, Richard glared at him, “I was about to leave tomorrow with Jason.”

Thomas frowned. Grayson had done a move Thomas had not expected of him. He had expected Grayson to be too sentimental to leave Damian behind. That he would not be able to do so without a little push.

“Great news”, Thomas schooled his features, “Should Alfred-“

“That was before I heard your fucking attempt at blackmailing me”, Grayson turned towards the door, “You can come out now.”

The door opened and revealed Damian, Jason and Bruce. They had all been listening. Thomas’ throat felt dry.

  
Bruce looked disappointed: “What the hell, Dad?”

“I was doing this for you”, Thomas said.

Bruce shook his head, not accepting Thomas’ explanation.

Damian seemed paler than usual. His hands were trembling. Richard exchanged a look with him. It seemed to give him new resolve.

Richard leaned forward, gripping his hands around the edge of the table: “You want to blackmail me with abduction of a minor? I’ll show you abduction of a minor.”

With that, Richard stormed towards Damian.

“Damian”, Richard said, “I’m abducting you.”

“But what about your safety, Richard?”, Damian asked.

  
“That train has long left the station”, Richard said, “Do you want to stay with the Waynes?”

Damian didn’t even hesitate when he said: “I do not wish to. Especially not after this display.”

“Great. Then you aren’t staying with the Waynes.”

“You can’t just take my grandson with you”, Thomas stood up.

“Can we?”, Jason smirked, pointing a gun at Thomas, “Because it doesn’t seem like anyone can stop us.”

“I’m getting the passports”, Damian hurried up the stairs.

“Please”, Bruce said, “Let’s just be reasonable about this-“  
  
“Just like he is reasonable about this?”, Richard glared at Thomas.

“No”, Bruce sighed, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into my father. I understand that you are angry-“

“More like fucking enraged”, Jason scoffed.

Bruce tried to walk towards them. But Jason pointed the gun at him: “No inch more.”

Bruce stopped. He raised his hands.

“Damian ran to get away from one family legacy. He won’t be caught in another”, Richard said.

Thomas sighed. He recognized that he could not stop Richard and Jason. He had badly miscalculated.

Damian returned with a duffle bag: “I already got our things.”

He pulled Richard towards the front door. The boy did not wish to stay – Thomas noticed with a pang. Thomas had liked the boy.

Spoiler came down the stairs. She looked confused at the commotion.

“What is going on?”, she asked.

  
No one answered her.

Thomas followed the boys to the front door: “You are ruining your life. Abducting a minor is- “

“My life is already ruined if you hadn’t noticed”, Richard said.

And Thomas hadn’t accounted for this. He had backed Richard into a corner in his own game. But all along, Richard had been playing a different game entirely. A more drastic one that only the desperate ones played.

“Don’t move”, Huntress stepped out behind a garden statue.

She pointed her crossbow at Jason: “We can’t let you leave with Damian. He’s under the protection of the Birds.”

Richard tensed, looking for a way out. Thomas sighed in relief. There was no way Todd and Grayson could go up against the Huntress.

But they didn’t have to as it turned out. Spoiler stepped in front of the Huntress’ crossbow.

“What are you doing, Spoiler?”, Huntress asked.

“Doing what I think is right”, Spoiler said, “Damian won’t be happy with these jerks. And if anyone can take good care of him, it’s Dick.”

“Spoiler-“

“What? You want to chide me again like some kid?”, Spoiler said, “I’m making my own decisions. Operating according to my own code. You of all people should respect that, Helena.”

Huntress gritted her teeth in annoyance.

Richard smiled: “Thank you, Steph. You are the best. You know that?”

She mock-saluted: “See it as payback for the five bucks.”

Bruce looked panicked, as if his world had crumbled in front of him: “Please. Don’t leave. We-“

“We need a car”, Jason’s gun was still pointed at Thomas, “We don’t all fit on my bike.”

“Give me a sec”, Richard hurried towards the sportscar.

He smashed the driver’s window in with a stone.

“You still know how to hotwire cars, Mr. Clean?”

“Of course, I do”, Richard winked at Jason, “What kind of juvenile delinquent would I be if I didn’t?”

Thomas stared incredulously while Richard hotwired the multi-million-dollar car.

“Sweet”, Jason said, “Get into the car, brat. Or I make you.”

“Oh no. Please don’t hurt me”, Damian played along, throwing the duffle bag onto the backseat.

He looked at the Waynes: “Do not try to find me. I do not wish to return.”

  
“Damian”, Bruce hurried towards the car.

Jason stopped him in his tracks with a flick of the gun: “Stay back, old man.”

Bruce looked at the gun with fear. He didn’t dare to move.

Jason sat down on the passenger’s side. Richard started the car.

“Please”, Bruce screamed, “You don’t understand. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

Richard started the car, the gravel scrunching under the tires.

“You are my sons”, Bruce screamed, getting more desperate.

Thomas halted at this statement. Was Bruce delusional? Or had he merely misspoken?

Making a plural out of a singular.

“Dick. Jason”, Bruce screamed, “Listen to me.”

“This time I have the last laugh, old man”, Jason screamed through the smashed window, “Fuck you by the way.”

The car raced towards the gate, effortlessly ripping it open. The multi-million-dollar vehicle doing its work.

“Shit”, Bruce cursed.

He glared at Thomas. Thomas had never seen this vitriolic hatred in his son. Bruce had never been one for anger. He had been too careless to foster it. But now he was terrifying.

“You ruined it”, Bruce’s voice was dark.

Almost a growl.

He went to Jason’s motorcycle and hotwired it. Thomas frowned. How did Bruce know how to hotwire a motorcycle?

Bruce sped towards the gate. Thomas stayed back. Completely baffled at these developments. The game had changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at Jason and Damian bonding over their shared horrible experiences. I'm proud of them. :,)
> 
> Dick almost was ready to let Damian go. They were the best indeed...
> 
> But Thomas literally pushed Dick to have his villain moment. You shouldn't push that boy. He had a stressful week.


	9. -mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick, Damian and Jason try to flee the country. They encounter obstacles along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am scared to post this chapter.

Dick couldn’t help but grin to himself while he sped the multi-million-dollar sportscar away from Wayne Manor back towards the city. If everything went well, they would reach the airport in an hour. It had been strangely cathartic to scream into Thomas Wayne’s face, steal the guy’s obscenely expensive car and free Damian from his unyielding expectations.

Dick tried to ignore the fact that his life as he knew it was practically over now. All of Gotham – maybe even the whole country – would look for him and Jason as the abductors of a young billionaire heir. Their faces would be plastered everywhere and the manhunt for them would rage.

Still, Dick didn’t regret it. It had been the right decision for Damian. Dick had entered this path the second he had decided to piss off the Gotham underworld. There was no going back now. And as scary as it was – there was also something freeing about it. Just running away without looking back.

“We need to ditch the car”, Jason said, “Too conspicuous.”

Dick nodded. He looked for a convenient alleyway to stash the car in.

“Time to find us new car to nab”, Dick said.

Jason shook his head: “Where is all this criminal energy coming from?”

Dick shrugged: “Once you got child abduction on your resume, you see the world with completely new eyes, Jay. And technically the things I got into prison for where worse than yours.”

Jason chuckled: “Just because I was smart enough to not get caught for the really bad stuff.”

“I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing.”

Jason just shrugged. He turned around, observing the cars behind them.

  
The traffic light turned red in front of them. Dick stopped the car, impatiently tapping onto the steering wheel.

Jason tensed next to Dick. He narrowed his eyes.

Dick frowned. Trying to see what Jason was seeing. The street seemed normal. The only thing that stood out was-

“Black limousine”, Jason said, “Has been following us since shortly after we left the manor grounds.”

“We have a tail?”, Dick tried to keep his voice steady.

That was less than optimal. Scratch that. That was terrifying. But hey, apparently, it was Dick’s life now. Maybe Damian and Jason were right, and his mental state had taken a bit of a dent from all this craziness.

“Definitely”, Jason pulled his gun and lowered the window.

“You can’t start a shootout here”, Dick protested.

“I just have to shoot out their tires”, Jason said.

“And attract attention from the police?”

“I agree with Grayson”, Damian said, “You are being as stupid as usual, Todd.”

Jason rolled his eyes and put up the window again: “Maybe we should gag you – for show purposes of course.”

Damian sneered back: “At least I-“

“Not a great time”, Dick said, “We need a plan.”

The light turned green. Dick started driving again, feeling tense and trying to keep an eye on their pursuer. They were in the middle of the intersection when Jason screamed.

Black cars raced at them from all four sides. Dick ripped the steering wheel around to avoid collision. They stopped in the middle of the intersection. Dick’s heart was racing. He gritted his teeth and rubbed his chest where the seat belt had cut into it.

The cars stopped and half a dozen ninjas exited them. Dick blinked several times to confirm that he was seeing straight. No. The ninjas were still there.

“SHIT”, Jason cursed, “Can I shoot now?”

Damian ripped open his door and jumped out of the car. He drew his katana.

“DAMI”, Dick screamed.

  
But Damian didn’t listen.

Dick had no choice but to follow. Jason cursed under his breath. They opted to take cover behind the car door.

Damian was already engaged in combat with three ninjas at the same time. He sliced through their skin like it was butter. They dropped one after another.

Dick stared at the fight with wide eyes. Damian was quick and ruthless. Dick had known _intellectually_ that Damian was an assassin. But to see it first-hand?

Jason shot at the ninjas over the car door. He kept them at arm’s length from them.

“Ha”, Jason grinned, “You idiots brought swords to a gunfight.”

“They are katanas, Todd”, Damian screamed – never ignoring an opportunity to correct Jason.

“I wouldn’t piss them off, Jay”, Dick said.

He was proven right when one of the ninjas sliced the car door in half. So much about fancy materials… It dropped to the street with a loud thud.

Jason tried to shoot him. But the ninja kicked the gun out of Jason’s hand. It scattered under the car. Jason cursed and tried to reach for it.

Dick felt frozen. He didn’t know what to do. What should he do against a ninja?

A katana was shoved through the ninja’s chest. He made a horrible gasping sound and sank to his knees. Damian stood behind him, covered in blood. Dick could only stare.

“We need to move”, Damian looked somewhere behind them, “Mother is here.”

Dick turned around to see a woman standing by the car that had tailed them. She was immaculately dressed and didn’t even try to join the fight. She seemed confident that her lackeys would do the work for her. And Dick didn’t doubt that they would succeed – even if Damian had cut through the first wave like they were paper.

Shit. They really were screwed.

Jason made a triumphant sound when he reached his gun under the car. He looked up when a loud sound neared from the same direction where they had come from. A motorcycle.

“Fuck. Wayne stole my bike”, Jason cursed.

Dick frowned. It indeed looked like Wayne who was racing towards them. He had followed them, too. Great.

“I will not return”, Damian said with conviction, “Father shall not fetch me.”

  
“He won’t, kid”, Jason raised his gun and aimed it at the motorcycle.

“Wait, Ja-“, Dick raised his hand to keep Jason from shooting.

But it was too late.

The tire exploded in an ear-shattering sound. Wayne lost control over the bike and crashed to the floor. 

Dick tensed: “Holy shit, Jay. You-“

  
“He’ll be fine”, Jason said, “Just needed to make sure he wouldn’t follow.”

Damian ran towards an alleyway. Jason followed.

Dick felt frozen, staring at Wayne. He was lying on the ground. Dick let out a breath of relief when Wayne moved. Bruce tried to stand up. Everything within Dick screamed at him to help him. Bruce had seemed okay. He had been strange but nice to Dick – definitely different from his jerk of a father.

“COME ON”, Jason screamed, “Wayne will be fine. Just a few scratches.”

Dick looked at Talia. She was smirking. Something glinted in her hand. A katana. That hadn’t been there before. She definitely was playing with them. And Dick didn’t want to stay long enough to find out what she was up to.

He ran after Jason and Damian. Damian had already climbed up a fire escape. Jason followed more slowly. Dick jumped up the fire escape finding it easier than he would have expected.

Maybe he still had something of an acrobat inside of him. He would have to find out.

Dick reached the rooftop.

“We need to gain ground on them”, Jason said, “Get a new car and get out of here.”

Dick liked this plan very much.

“Less talking more running, Todd”, Damian’s voice was snide.

He had already crossed over to the next roof top. Dick ran after him, ignoring his doubts when he saw the wide ledge. He used to take these as a child without second thought. He could do it as a rusty adult.

Dick forced himself to keep going and jumped. A leap of faith. He made it to the other side, using his arms to balance himself when he landed.

Dick caught himself in the middle of raising his arms like he was performing. It must still be ingrained in him even after all these years. But they didn’t have time for theatrics now. Not when they were fighting for their lives.

They ran over the rooftops and Dick started to enjoy the tingling sensation he got every time he jumped over a ledge. Soon, he started to take them without thinking about it. It was like his muscles took over for him. Dick found himself grinning. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. It made him wish that he had never stopped.

“Stop being slow, Todd”, Damian screamed.

Dick halted. Confused. He turned around to see Jason two rooftops behind them.

“Not everyone can be a child assassin or a former circus monkey”, Jason grumbled when he reached them, gasping for air.

Dick was also breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his forehead. He only noticed it now. Apparently, the adrenaline had been too strong in the middle of flight.

“Let’s go”, Damian sounded tense.

He had sort of taken the lead here. Dick didn’t mind. If any of them had experience with this, it was Damian – which was sad because Damian was a child.

They continued running and Dick noticed that the ledges kept getting wider and wider. Damian jumped over a particularly wide one with a flip. Dick found himself doubting for one millisecond. But he accelerated his pace. Another leap of faith it was.

Dick jumped and used a role to catch his momentum on the other side. He laid on the roof for a second just laughing like a maniac.

Damian looked down at him: “TT. I am concerned for your mental state, Grayson. Not that it was particularly sound before. But this is just pathetic.”

Still, Damian helped Dick up.

Jason halted on the other side looking down.

“No way”, Jason said, “I am not crazy enough to do this jump.”

“TT. More like not skilled enough”, Damian said.

“Jay, I still got it”, Dick felt full of energy.

His legs felt giddy after flying for the first time in so long. Why had he ever stopped doing jumps like this? He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.

“Great. We can talk about that once we aren’t pursued by deadly ninjas”, Jason looked at the alley between them, “See that shitty Ford? Screams getaway car to me.”

Dick looked down into the alley. There indeed were a number of cars. One of them a red Ford that looked like its parts were barely holding itself together. Indeed, the perfect getaway car. No one would look twice. Dick was in the midst of mapping out a way down there. The fire escape would do it.

Damian screamed: “TODD.”

Dick flinched and looked up. Jason ducked out of instinct. A shuriken nicked his arm, embedding itself in a chimney behind him. Dick felt tense, the hairs on his neck standing up.

At least a dozen ninjas came out from behind chimneys and air conditioner units. Dick’s throat felt dry. Talia must have told them to spread around the city. They had been running into a trap without knowing. Dick felt foolish suddenly. They had never stood a chance.

Damian tensed, raising his katana. He put himself in front of Dick. Dick could appreciate the sentiment even if he didn’t know how much it would help.

Talia approached them across the rooftops. She moved in a similarly elegant way to Damian. Dick could see the resemblance even if he despised this woman. She was the cause of Damian’s pain.

Talia stopped in front of them, looking at Damian with disappointment in her eyes:

“At least you haven’t lost your fighting prowess, son.”

Damian raised his chin: “I never would, Mother.”

“You caused me a lot of grief through your actions.”

“I would lie if I were to state that I was sorry”, Damian said.

  
Talia’s face twisted in annoyance: “You cannot run away from your destiny, Damian.”

  
Damian stepped towards her: “I do not wish for this destiny. Cassandra Cain showed me another way.”

“Cain is capable but foolish”, Talia said, “I hired the most efficient mercenaries on this earth to detain her. She will not be able to run any longer. She is getting tired. Just like you will be. Even if you leave the country, I will still find you, Damian. I will always find you.”

“You got control issues, lady”, Jason pointed his gun at Talia.

Talia gestured in Jason’s direction. One of the ninjas kicked the gun out of Jason’s hand before he could shoot. They pushed him to the ground. Jason screamed in anger. But he couldn’t do anything.

They truly were screwed.

Damian seemed to notice it, too. His face lost the angry determination it had held before and became neutral. A mask.

He threw the katana to the floor: “I am coming with you, Mother.”

“Apparently, you haven’t lost your senses either.”

Dick felt resistance stir inside of him: “No, you aren’t going with her, Damian. She is hurting you.”

“Do not be foolish, Grayson”, Damian said, “We have lost.”

“We only lose if we give up.”

“I’m with the Demon”, Jason’s voice sounded strained as the ninja pushed a foot on his neck, “We lost the moment we had ten katanas at our throat.”

Dick crossed his arms, glaring at Talia: “Damian ran away for a reason - because of you. Maybe something to think about.”

Talia raised her chin in a manner similar to Damian, not even looking into Dick’s eyes: “I am doing all of this for you, Damian. To turn you into the perfect heir and leader. You will appreciate it once you grow up.”

“He won’t”, Dick said, “He will hate you because you destroyed his childhood. Do you want this, Talia?”

“Grayson”, Damian put a hand on Dick’s wriest, “Do not provoke the Demon’s Daughter.”

But Dick had talked himself into a rage: “You say that you are doing this for his own good, but you are lying to yourself. You are selfish. You aren’t training him. You are abusing him. And nothing good can ever come from abuse.”

Talia bristled. She approached Dick, every one of her steps cutting. Dick fought against the instinct to shrink back and stood his ground.

“I assume that you are the man that found Damian?”, Talia said.

It was the first time that she addressed him. She still didn’t look at him.

“I found him”, Dick said, “Alone and injured. Because you failed in your duty to protect him.”

“No one tells me I can’t protect my son”, for the first time, Talia glared directly at him.

Dick stepped closer to her: “If Damian were one of my charges, I would have already removed him from your home and filed a restraining order against you.”

“Oh damn”, Jason muttered, his face still squished into the pavement.

Talia’s face twisted into pure anger. Dick would be scared if he wasn’t so enraged.

“Mother”, Damian reached for her arm, “Let us leave. They are cretins. Insignificant.”

“I don’t think _he_ is to you”, Talia stepped even closer to Dick.

It made Dick shudder. She was like a predator. Still, he stayed still, refusing to budge. Talia was just like Thomas. She thought that she was better than everyone else. That she could have what she wanted without consequence.

“He is insignificant, Mother”, Damian insisted, “I will go with you.”

“You are working very hard to protect him, Damian”, Talia said.

“I am not.”

Talia looked at Damian again. She gripped his shoulder.

“Fine”, she pulled Damian with her, “We shall leave.”

Dick tried to run after Damian. But a katana to his throat made him halt.

“Don’t let her wear you down, Dami”, Dick screamed after him, “You are a good person. One of the best I have ever met.”

Damian turned around. Dick wanted to hug him. He had failed. Utterly and completely. Dick would never forgive himself for failing Damian.

Talia halted : “We shall leave - after you have learned your lesson, Damian.”

She swung around and kicked Dick in the chest. The force made him gasp for air and threw him back. Dick could feel some of his rips crack.

“DICK”, Jason screamed.

Dick frowned. Confused. Why was Jason screaming?

Then, he noticed that there was nothing under him. He was falling. Dick tried to do something - anything. He was an acrobat dammit. He tried to reach for the fire escape in front of him. But the metal slipped through his fingers. There was nothing to hold onto and Dick kept falling.

His body collided with the pavement. He didn’t feel anything at first. His first thought was whether his parents had felt the same way. Or had they died immediately?

Then, the pain crashed down on him and Dick felt something warm trickle out of his mouth. He had it coming the moment he had pissed of the Gotham underground. It had been naive to believe that he could escape unscathed. Still, Dick didn’t regret it. He had done the right thing.

*

Bruce gritted his teeth when he stood up. Jason had had no qualms about shooting out his tire.

He carefully moved his limbs. Readying himself for the pain. Nothing seemed to be broken. Only a few nasty scraps.

Bruce sighed in relief and stood up. He felt for the time machine in his pocket. It was his safety net. As long as he had it-

Bruce’s chest constricted when his fingertip met a ragged edge. He pulled out the contents of his pocket, staring at the pieces in his hand. The machine was broken.

Bruce had fallen onto his right side when he had collided with the pavement. Directly onto the time machine. It was ruined. Bruce was stranded in this new timeline without a safety net. And three of his sons were in immediate danger. Bruce’s thoughts were racing. Going through all the possible ways this situation could go wrong.

Bruce forced himself to breathe more slowly. He had to keep his thoughts together. It would be fine. Bruce had worked without a time machine before. He was Batman. Batman had always been more about the man than the gadgets.

The man _and_ his allies. Because as often as Batman had growled that he worked alone – he didn’t. He had Robin by his side. Oracle in his ear. And a plethora of former Robins and Batgirls on speed dial if he was in need of help. Not to forget heroes like Batwoman or the Birds of Prey. And if the situation was dire enough, there was always the League. Clark had been there in a matter of second when Bruce had needed him.

So, Bruce pulled out his phone. He was relieved when the cracked turned on despite the cracks. Bruce dialled Barbara’s number.

_“What do you want?”,_ the voice on the other side said.

“Do you have them on your radar?”

_“I do”,_ Oracle said, _“I still have the tracker I put on Dick’s coat. The Birds are on their way.”_

“Good”, Bruce said, “Where are they?”

_“This is too dangerous, Mr. Wayne.”_

“Oracle, there is more to me than you might know. You have to trust me on this. I need to get to-” _\- my sons – “_ them.”

Barbara sounded suspicious: _“You have been on my radar, Mr. Wayne. I have been trying to figure out your deal.”_

“I promise that I will tell you, Barbara. As soon as the boys are safe.”

Barbara sighed: _“It’s your own responsibility, Mr. Wayne. They haven’t moved for a bit which is concerning.”_

Bruce had to agree. He hoped that his boys were simply hiding and not- No. He couldn’t bear the alternative.

Barbara told him an address.

Bruce ignored his sore body and ran. He had to save his sons. Nothing would stop him.

Bruce reached the entrance of a dodgy alley. He could see people on the roof when he looked up. Damian was screaming something. Dick’s name.

He was fighting in an attempt to get down from the roof. But a handful of ninjas held him back. Damian kicked and screamed. Viciously biting one of the ninjas in the arm.

  
“DAMIAN”, Bruce screamed.

It had no use. The ninjas dragged him back out of Bruce’s sight. His screams grew quieter. He sounded anguished. Like he was crying.

Bruce frowned. What could make Damian react this way?

Then, he heard the wet gasp. It sounded like someone choking. The sound made Bruce halt. It reminded him of his mother seconds before she had suffocated on her own blood thirty years ago.

Bruce found the body behind a dodgy Ford. He froze. Needing a moment to register that it was Dick. His head was turned to the side. Glassy eyes seemed to look through Bruce. Unfocused.

Dick’s chest heaved up and down. Each breath a painful struggle. His skin was pale. An ashen grey that reminded Bruce of death. It made the red on his chin stand out even starker than usual. Dick’s leg was twisted, and a pool of blood was growing around his head.

Bruce fell to the pavement next to him. His pulse was racing, and Bruce felt himself succumbing to panic. The phone clattered to the floor.

_“Mr. Wayne”,_ Barbara sounded concerned – distant, _“Tell me what is happening.”_

Bruce vaguely registered her. Too much in shock. Warm blood soaked his trousers.

“No”, was the only word Bruce could say.

Another wet cough ripped him out of his stasis. Dick’s eyes met Bruce’s. And Bruce could see the confusion in them. Bruce had seen this gaze so often as Batman. The gaze of a dying person who didn’t understand what was happening to them. Batman had stayed with them. Comforted them with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything else for them.

But they had been strangers. This was Bruce’s son in front of him. And Bruce refused to believe that Dick was dying.

“No”, Bruce said, “You’ll be fine.”

He looked at Dick’s body. Trying to find a place where to stem the bleeding. But there was nothing. Dick was bleeding internally.

“Oracle”, Bruce screamed, “Call an ambulance.”

He didn’t hear a response. Bruce did the only thing he could do. He pulled Dick closer. Comforting his son while he was in pain.

“You will make it”, Bruce said, “You hear me? I won’t allow anything else.”

Dick looked at Bruce through hazy eyes. Otherwise, not reacting.

“I love you”, Bruce said, “I should have told you earlier. But I do. I know I’m not an easy person to deal with but I do- I do so much.”

Dick frowned weakly. Confused. It wasn’t the reaction Bruce wanted. But it was something.

Bruce pulled Dick closer, cradling him like the child he had once been.

“You will make it, Nightwing. You hear me?”

Dick didn’t react.

“Come on. Talk to me. Stay awake.”

Dick tried to open his mouth. But only a wet sound came out.

“Nightwing?”, Bruce’s world blurred in tears.

He had to keep it together for his son. He had to comfort him until help came. They would be here soon. And they would fix Bruce’s son.

Dick’s eyes slipped shut. Bruce patted his cheek, refusing to let Dick slip away. Dick’s eyes weakly opened again.

  
“There you go, Nightwing”, Bruce forced a smile, “You can do it. Just stay with me.”

Dick would make it. Bruce wouldn’t lose anyone ever again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive it.

Dick’s eyes grew dull, his head falling to the side. Bruce turned it back towards him looking Dick into the eye.

“Robin”, he tried to put authority into his voice.

Robin had always listened to his orders when Bruce had used his Batman-voice. But this Dick had never been Robin. They didn’t share this history. They never would again.

There was no recognition in Dick’s eyes. Just blankness. His body felt limp. Heavy. Lifeless.

“Robin”, Bruce wouldn’t accept this.

Nothing.

“ROBIN”, Bruce felt himself break apart.

He knew that there was nothing left to save. But knowing was different from accepting.

Bruce He desperately patted Dick’s cheek trying to stir him awake. Dick didn’t wake up again.

After an eternity of desperate pleading, Bruce collapsed over Dick’s dead body. His world drowned in tears when he realized that his son was truly gone.

After a while, heavy boots neared. Bruce vaguely noted them, not even looking up.

“No”, someone said.

Jason fell down to his knees next to Bruce. He almost ripped Dick’s body out of Bruce’s arms.

“Don’t do this to me, Dickhead”, Jason said.

Dick’s head lolled to the side. Lifeless.

Jason seemed to realize it, too. His hands started to shake. He stayed quiet, only staring at the body. After a while, he stood up again and pummelled his fists into the wall.

Bruce thought about stopping him. But he didn’t have the energy to. His son was dead.

More steps neared. The Birds. They were too late. Selina reached for Dick’s wriest and felt his pulse. She looked at the other Birds and shook her head. Sorrow evident on her face.

Bruce could hear Stephanie sob. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t have the energy to. His son was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, Dick.   
> *hides under desk with tissues*


	10. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce refuses to accept Dick's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm officially one day late. But uni has been a mountain of work lately and so I decided to delay the chapter for a day. I edited it again today and I'm glad I did because I think it's far better now.  
> Isn't there like a quote about video games: A rushed game stays bad forever and a delayed one is good? I'm not a gamer at all and I have no idea if I didn't just make up this quote - but I guess this applies to my fanfic.
> 
> So, enjoy. As much as you can enjoy the aftermath of Dick's death. I'm so sorry, my boy.

Bruce’s arms felt numb. Tired. Dick’s body grew heavier and heavier, but Bruce refused to let go.

Bruce hated it. In Ethiopia – when Jason had died– Bruce had held his son’s dead body close for hours. But this weak _Brucie_ -body didn’t even allow him this privilege.

“We need to call the police”, Selina’s voice was quiet – respectful.

Bruce could feel Selina’s eyes on himself. She must wonder why Bruce was crying over an almost-stranger like a son. But Bruce didn’t have the energy anymore to pretend. And it felt cruel to act like Dick’s death meant nothing to him. Dick deserved to be mourned.

_“I called an ambulance”,_ Bruce could faintly hear Barbara’s voice over the phone.

“It’s the seediest part of Gotham, O”, Huntress said _,_ “It’ll never arrive.”

Silence.

And Bruce tensed. What had he done? This Gotham seemed worse than before. The Gotham in Bruce’s old timeline had been a city of nightmares. But after decades of philanthropy, Bruce had at least ensured that the basics worked. No one had cared about this Gotham and lives suffered for it.

“I’ll call my father directly”, Barbara said, “He’ll come.”

Bruce pulled Dick’s body closer. He didn’t like the thought of the police taking his son away from him. And they wouldn’t.

“Mr. Wayne?”, Selina said, “Maybe you should-“

“No”, Bruce glared at her.

“The police should come soon.”

“They won’t”, Bruce said.

Bruce wouldn’t let them take Dick’s body. Them taking Dick away would make it official. And Bruce wasn’t ready to give up. He wouldn’t let whatever cruel entity of time had done this to him win.

_“Mr. Wayne-“,_ Barbara said over the phone.

“You are fucking crazy, Wayne”, Jason glared at Bruce, “You wanna cover this up so that no one knows what kind of shit the Waynes are involved in?”

Bruce looked at Jason. Really looked. All he could see was the son he had held in Ethiopia. The son that had come back. Dick would come back, too.

“We are going to save him”, Bruce stood up, trying to heft Dick’s body up.

Bruce’s back protested and he fell to his knees again. Dick had been anything but a lightweight in the old timeline, but Batman had always been able to carry his son to safety when he needed it. Brucie couldn’t.

“What the fuck are you doing, Wayne?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“NO”, Jason punched Bruce in the face.

Bruce fell back. He held his nose feeling the warm bload coating his fingers. A mixture of Dick’s and his own.

Jason stood over Bruce. His fists balled. He almost seemed pit-mad. Only the green in his eyes and the white streak were missing. But no. This was pure anger. Pure Jason.

“You don’t get to hide what you did. I’m not naïve enough to think that you’ll face any repercussions for what you did - even though Dick only died because of your shit. But he won’t end up disintegrated in some acid bath. He deserves a proper funeral and finally some goddamn respect. Even if you don’t know the concept, Wayne.”

Bruce stood up: “If we do as I say, he won’t need a funeral.”

Jason growled and looked ready to smash Bruce’s face in. But Catwoman and Huntress pulled him back. Huntress twisted Jason’s arm behind his back and pushed him against the wall by his neck.

“You need to calm down”, Huntress said, “I get that you are pissed but this isn’t helping.”

“Just let me smash that fucker’s face in”, Jason growled.

Helena pushed him more harshly against the wall: “Oh, believe me. I know that feeling. Most of the times it doesn’t lead to anything good though.”

Bruce gripped Dick’s body under the arms and pulled him towards the old Ford.

“Wayne”, Selina’s voice was a warning.

“Trust me, Selina”, Bruce said – without thinking.

Selina tensed: “How do you know my name? How do you know Oracle’s identity?”

“I just do.”

“I want answers, Wayne”, Selina narrowed her eyes behind the goggles.

She was just like the Selina Bruce remembered. The crafty thief with a stronger sense of justice than she liked to admit. And absolutely stunning in every outfit she wore. It hurt that she had no feelings at all towards him.

“You’ll get them after we get Dick to the Manor.”

Selina gestured in rage: “To do what? He is dead. Do you want to hide him Wayne? The Birds can’t let you do that. Jason is right. You won’t face any legal repercussions. And hiding his body just because it’s more convenient is highly disrespectful.”

“I’m not disrespecting him, Selina. I’m bringing him back”, Bruce smashed the car window in and opened it.

He opened the backdoor, trying to heft Dick’s body onto the seat. But it seemed impossible. Bruce couldn’t do this on his own.

Selina’s eyes narrowed further. Jason observed the scene with visible rage. He ripped himself loose out of Helena’s grip and lunged at Bruce.

  
“I’ll fucking kill you, Wayne.”

Bruce took something out of his jacket and shoved it into Jason’s face. Jason halted, staring at the photo. He ripped it out of Bruce’s hands.

“What kind of sick joke is this?”, Jason said.

“It’s not a joke at all. I’ll explain later once we have him back at the Manor.”

“You are sick, old man. Where did you get this?”

“Look at the back”, Bruce said, “It’s authentic. Dick gifted the photo to Damian.”

Jason read the message on the back, his hands shaking.

“It’s from Dick”, Jason muttered, “The writing. The lovey-dovey stuff. It’s him.”

Steph – who had been frozen in shock until now – came out of her stasis. She looked over Jason’s shoulder.

“This is me”, she frowned, “As Spoiler but looking slightly different. And you, Jason.”

“In some weird biker get-up”, Jason said, “With a batsymbol? And what the hell is Dick wearing? And who are those other people? And Wayne?”

“You were all vigilantes from where I came from”, Bruce said, “And you were my family.”

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard”, Jason said.

“Don’t believe me”, Bruce nodded towards the back of the photo, “Believe Dick.”

Jason gritted his teeth.

“I’ll explain”, Bruce said, “You just have to help me get him into the car. I can get him back.”

“How?”, Jason didn’t look up.

His eyes seemed wet but there was a tinge of hope in his voice.

“The Lazarus Pit”, Bruce said, “We’ll get him there.”

“The what?”, Jason gave Steph the photo and walked towards Bruce.

“Lazarus Pit.”, Bruce said, “Just give me a chance to explain. You want him back, too, Jason.”

Jason stayed quiet, but he took Dick’s legs.

While they pulled Dick’s body onto the backseat, Jason said: “I’ll kill you if you are lying, old man.”

“I understand”, Bruce said, “But you need to know, Jason, that I am mourning him as much as you do.”

“You are full of shit, Wayne”, resentment creeped back on Jason’s face, “If you believe you can make this into some twisted joke-“

  
“You’ll kill me.”

Jason nodded. He moved Dick’s legs so that he fit into the car.

  
“What am I doing?”, Jason muttered, “This is sick.”

“It’s his only chance.”

Jason closed the car door and took a moment to look at Dick’s body. His eyes glistened and he stubbornly turned his face away from Bruce.

“You can drive with me… and Dick, Jason., We are going back to the Manor”, Bruce looked at the Birds, “I hope Oracle will be there. We need her.”

“She’ll be interested to know why she is on that photo, too”, Steph said.

“She will know. You all will”, Bruce wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.

Today had taken a toll on him. And the day wasn’t even over. But Bruce felt better now. More energized. Dick wasn’t lost. It was only a matter of time until Bruce would have him back. And then Bruce would come clean to him and maybe they could be a family again.

Bruce sat down in the driver’s seat, hotwiring the car. After a while, Jason sat down next to him. He kept his face turned to the window. Bruce could see the tears on his face in the reflection. But he opted to stay quiet.

*

Jason and Bruce carried Dick’s body inside the Manor. Alfred greeted them at the door looking at them in shock.

“Oh, my dear boy”, Alfred muttered.

“We need ice, Alfred”, Bruce said, “A lot of it.”

“What is the reasoning behind this, Master Bruce?”, Alfred said.

Bruce’s parents came into the hall at the commotion.

Martha covered her mouth in shock: “What happened?”

“Talia killed him.”

Martha swayed, holding herself up on a pillar: “I never wanted this to happen.”

“What do you mean, Dear?”, Thomas seemed concerned about her.

“I made a deal with Talia. Damian in exchange for our family’s safety. But-“

“You did this”, Jason glared at Martha, “You ratted us out.”

Martha flinched. She seemed too shocked to respond.

Jason scoffed.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen”, Martha looked close to tears, “She was just supposed to take Damian so that we can be safe again.”

Jason didn’t look appeased by Martha’s statement. Bruce suspected that he was only holding himself back because anything else would mean dropping Dick’s body.

Thomas’ voice was calm, but Bruce could hear a tinge of sadness inside it: “Surely we need to call the police so that they can record his death. He doesn’t have any family. I’m sure we can pay for the arrangements so that he gets the funeral he deserves.”

Jason glare darkened: “I’m his family. And you don’t get to pay this off your conscience.”

“I am very saddened by this, Mr. Todd. I understand your rage”, Thomas at least sounded sincere even if his words rang hollow.

“You don’t understand anything”, Jason screamed, “You didn’t know him. If you did, you would know that he wouldn’t want some fancy funeral paid by people who don’t care about him.”

“Just let me express my condolences, Mr. Todd.”

“You tried to ruin his life so shove them up your-“

“Jason”, Bruce interrupted, his arms visibly trembling, “We need to get him into the bathtub.”

Jason looked like he didn’t listen.

  
Bruce allowed his voice to get more desperate: “Please, Jason. I can’t hold him much longer. And I don’t want to drop him.”

Jason continued to glare at Bruce’s parents, but he walked towards the bathroom. Alfred opened the door for them, looking dubious. Bruce felt sick at the trail of blood they were leaving. Dick hadn’t deserved this. To die in so much pain.

They heaved Dick into the bathtub – trying to muster up as much dignity as possible. There wasn’t much. Dick’s body was slack, his head falling to the side against the tiles. Jason carefully turned Dick’s head around, looking close to tears again.

Bruce closed his eyes trying to avoid this undignified sight for at least a few moments. His son’s corpse. Lying in a bathtub like a dirty secret that Bruce was trying to hide. Bruce hated doing this.

Batman had always had respect towards the death. He valued life above all. So, he grieved every single soul he couldn’t save. It hurt to have to do this to his own son. But it would ultimately be to Dick’s benefit.

Bruce would fix it. The Pit would get Dick back. Bruce refused to give up his son. Maybe this was the universe’s cruel way of punishment. Taking Bruce’s son for his parents. But Bruce wouldn’t accept this. Dick wasn’t supposed to die. So, he wouldn’t.

“Ice please, Alfred”, Bruce opened his eyes again.

Bloody handprints and smudges covered the white of the bathtub. Dick’s eyes were still open. A lifeless, icy blue. Dick’s eyes had never been cold. Angry maybe. Even hateful. But never cold.

More often than not they had twinkled in amusement when Dick had made one of his many jokes. Batman had held his smile back most of the times – having a stoic image to uphold.

_“I know that you find it funny, B”, Dick had often said, “You don’t need to tell me. I can feel it.”_

Hearing Dick’s voice like this in his head hurt. But Bruce was also glad that he still remembered it. He never wanted to forget his son’s voice.

And Bruce wouldn’t. He would get Dick back before he could forget his voice. And once Dick was back, Bruce would laugh at his jokes more.

Jason sat on the edge of the tub, breathing heavily from carrying Dick’s body. He allowed his tears to fall. Too exhausted to hold them back at this point. They dropped into the tub onto Dick’s body.

Jason didn’t seem to notice. He was fixated on Dick’s face. Carefully, he reached out and closed Dick’s eye lids. He took some toilet paper and wiped off the blood around Dick’s mouth. Most of it was already dried. But it seemed to give Jason some peace.

“There you go, Dickhead”, Jason muttered, “It’s just like you to die like a mess.”

He continued to wipe the blood off Dick’s face only stopping when there was nothing for the paper to soak up anymore.

“He almost looks like Sleeping Beauty like this”, Jason said, “As if he could wake up again.”

“He will”, Bruce said.

“I don’t believe you”, Jason said.

“You are still here.”

“Because I _want to_ believe you. If there is just a chance that something can get him back-“, Jason broke off, shaking his head.

“You were brothers.”

“We were I guess”, Jason smiled slightly under his tears, “Juvie gets you to stick together. I never told him.”

“He knew”, Bruce said.

“You seem awfully sure.”

“Because I know _him_.”

Jason seemed too tired to respond. His shoulders slumped forward.

Alfred entered the room with a sack of ice.

Bruce ripped it open, carefully spreading the ice over Dick’s body and lifting him with Jason’s help to also get some ice underneath him.

“If you allow me to interject”, Alfred said, “This seems awfully undignified, Master Bruce.”

“I know, Alfred”, Bruce said, “But it’s the only chance we have.”

“Chance? The dear boy is dead, Master Bruce. It pains me to say it.”

“He is. But he won’t be for long”, Bruce clenched his hand around the edge of the bathtub, “And you’ll understand once I explain. I need all of them in the dining room. You, too, Alfred.”

Alfred seemed tired when he said: “Very well, young Master. I hope your explanation is convincing because I will call the police myself if it is not.”

Bruce frowned. Surprised.

“I am indebted to the Waynes in a way that I will never be able to explain”, Alfred said, “But I will draw a line at disrespecting this dear boy’s body.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you, Alfred.”

*

Jason didn’t have the patience to deal with Wayne at the moment. Not when his best friend – kind of brother – was rotting away in a bathtub. But Wayne was a strange man. A very insistent man when he wanted to be.

He was probably completely nuts. And Jason wouldn’t even have entertained Wayne’s antics if it wasn’t for the photo. The photo that had all of them in some strange vigilante get-up.

Jason, Dick, Steph, Damian and a whole bunch of other people. One of them apparently Oracle? Could Wayne have faked this? But why should he? This would have to be a very elaborate fake.

And Dick’s writing. Dick’s writing was the thing that tipped the scale. No way that Wayne could fake such a personal message without knowing anything about Dick.

Spoiler was reading the back of the photo over and over again, her eyes teary. She was sitting next to Jason at the Wayne’s dinner table. Together with Huntress, Catwoman, Bruce himself and the old Waynes that Jason could stand even less than Bruce. They had built two opposite fronts somehow with the butler sitting at the end of the table.

Spoiler sat on Jason’s other side making him a buffer for her towards the other Birds. They apparently weren’t at the best terms at the moment.

“I’m Stephanie by the way. Call me Steph”, Spoiler wiped away her tears, “I think you should know. We both miss him.”

“Jason”, Jason simply nodded.

He barely knew the girl. But he already felt a strange kinship with her. She seemed nice enough – brave even. She had faced Huntress’ crossbow for what she thought was right. That must take courage.

“He was a great guy”, Steph said.

“He was”, Jason thought about Dick’s body in some rich guy’s bathtub and felt like a traitor.

What was Jason thinking letting Dick’s corpse be disrespected like this? But there was just this glimmer of hope that kept him going. _The writing_. Jason hoped that Dick would understand.

Jason leaned closer to Stephanie, almost whispering into her ear: “If Wayne tells shit, we are going to take his body. I don’t trust Wayne with it and Dick deserves some better than to be some rich guy’s sick experiment.”

  
“Definitely”, Steph said, “We should still hear Wayne out.”

Jason balled his fists, not knowing what to do with his pent-up rage.

They stayed quiet for a while. Steph looked down at the photo again.

“What are we waiting for?”, Jason huffed impatiently.

  
“The boss”, Stephanie said, “Oracle is on her way.”

Jason stayed quiet. Oracle apparently was on the photo. What had she to do with this?. Wayne was insisting on a whole bunch of people that barely had any business with each other.

“It’s really from Dick”, Steph shook her head, “It’s his writing. And it’s just the way he would write a message like this. And to Damian of all people.”

“I know”, Jason said.

“You look different in this, Jason”, Steph said, “The white streak? And the scars.”

Jason huffed: “Just say that that guy looks more badass than me.”

Steph chuckled slightly: “Everyone looks cooler in this picture. Even Dick seems less dorky.”

Jason decided that he liked her.

The doorbell rang. Alfred stood up to greet their new guest. Jason perked up at the possibility of seeing the legendary Oracle.

A redheaded woman in a wheelchair entered the room. Alfred pulled away his chair at the end of the table giving her space.

Jason recognized her from the photo.

“What is this about?”, Oracle asked.

Her gaze roamed over the room. Already analysing. Jason tensed under her gaze. He doubted that this woman missed anything.

Steph slid the photo over the table towards her: “You are in the photo, too, O.”

Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses as she examined the photo. Wayne looked tense.

Oracle looked up, pinning him down with her gaze: “Explain like you promised.”

Bruce took a deep breath: “This photo is from an alternate timeline.”

“You are shitting me”, Jason said.

He was about to stand up. This was too ridiculous to be true. Writing be damned.

“No”, Bruce took a pile of shards out of his pocket and put it on the table, “I used this time machine to change a certain event and ended up in this timeline.”

Several questions echoed over the table. Jason couldn’t make out any of them.

Thomas’ voice finally won out over the others: “Which event, Bruce?”

“In my original timeline you…”, Bruce looked at the table, “-you were killed and I became a crimefighter called Batman to avenge your deaths and bring justice to the world.”

“We died?”, Martha said, “When?”

“After we watched the Mark of Zorro that night. You wanted to take a shortcut. I told you that it was dangerous. In my timeline, we took that shortcut and a robber-“

Bruce shook his head as if this memory was too painful to talk about.

The Waynes looked shocked. Even Thomas was too taken aback to speak.

“You aren’t lying”, Oracle watched Bruce, “Or you are very well trained. But why should Brucie Wayne lie?”

Jason scoffed. Nope. He was out of here. To think that there was some alternate timeline where he played vigilantes with a guy called Batman? Nope. He was out of here together with Dick’s body. Wayne must be lying. This was nothing but a joke to Wayne. He was making a mockery out of Dick’s death.

“Jason”, Bruce stood up, sounding desperate, “Please. Just hear me out.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“Jason”, there was a slightly desperate edge to Steph’s voice, “I think he’s telling the truth.”

  
“This is ridiculous. Me playing vigilante? No way.”

“Think about it”, Steph said, “I’m a vigilante in this timeline, too. Oracle exists. You are a criminal. Is it so far-fetched?”

“You just see what you want to see”, Jason balled his fists, “You want Wayne’s crazy plan to be real because he says he can revive Dick. Well, newsflash: This is not how things work. Dick is dead. And the Waynes are at fault. Accept it.”

“I believe he is telling the truth”, Oracle’s voice was steady, measured.

It made Jason halt.

“Bruce knew my secret identity”, Oracle said, “No one has ever found out my secret identity. And he cried over Dick’s body as if he was more than a stranger to him. Even more than a friend.”

Jason crossed his arms. Trying to find a good retort. But Oracle’s intelligent gaze stayed on him. It made Jason feel like a petulant child. So, he sat down again with a huff.

“Explain, old man or I’m going to bash your face in.”

“He was- is my son”, Bruce said, “You are too, Jason. The boy in the photo. Tim. The girl with the black hair. Cassandra. The boy with the yellow suit. Duke. You are all my children. I adopted all of you. And I… love all of you.”

Wayne looked at the table while he explained the story. An absolutely bonkers story of Wayne dressing up like a bat and beating on criminals.

“-I found Dick in the circus that night. I adopted him. He became Robin.”

“You called him Robin when he died”, Oracle said, “I heard it over the phone.”

“I must have slipped”, Bruce balled his fists, “He worked so hard to become independent. But sometimes I still see him like that child in front of me.”

Bruce looked up, directly at Jason: “I adopted you, too, Jason. It was after Dick had left to establish his independence. I took you in when you tried to steal my tires.”

Jason searched for a snappy retort. But it stuck on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine the arrogant prick he had met in the alley that night taking him in. It sounded almost like a dream come true. Getting adopted by some rich dude and getting to fight crime with him. Jason was looking for the asterisk.

“You were the second Robin until- it’s not important.”

“At least finish that ludicrous story you started.”

“You died, Jason. I failed to protect you and a villain killed you. You were so young. I failed you and I’m sorry.”

Bruce rubbed his hand over his face.

There was that asterisk apparently.

“And then?”, Jason leaned back.

Bruce continued. Talking about a curious boy named Tim who fell in love with a vigilante called Spoiler. Then, an assassin named Cassandra. Damian. A boy who could control the light - Duke. A determined girl who became Batgirl and later an information broker called Oracle when she had to reinvent herself.

“And you thrived”, Bruce looked directly at Barbara, “Just like you do now.”

Barbara smiled slightly. She was believing Wayne’s story. And Jason found himself doubting.

He had had to admit that Wayne’s weirdly elaborate story was sucking him in. Jason had seen Dick on those rooftops. Smiling like a joyous maniac when he got those jumps right. Could it be so far-fetched that he would become a vigilante in another world?

“There’s one hole in your story”, Jason said, “You are so sure that I died when I was young. But why am I a grown-ass man in that picture?”

A very chiseled man who was built like a tank – Jason had to add. Was it possible to be jealous of your alternate self? Because puberty had definitely been kind to Jason’s alternate self.

But maybe Jason shouldn’t be because that guy had died apparently. Probably painfully from the regret in Bruce’s eyes.

“You came back”, Bruce said, “Damian’s Grandfather Ra’s al Ghul is almost ancient. He can revive himself through something called a Lazarus Pit.”

“What is that?”

Bruce looked at Steph: “You used to call it a green swimming pool.”

“Sounds like me”, Steph muttered.

“Someone chucked me in there?”, Jason asked.

Bruce nodded: “Talia. She wanted to do me a favor.”

“Nice of her. Wouldn’t have expected that of the charming lady who killed Dick.”

“Talia is complicated”, Bruce said, “She has her own morals that even I can’t predict.”

“You want to do the same to Dick?”, Jason said.

“It will bring him back”, Bruce’s eyes burned in determination, “We will get him back.”

“We just bring him back?”, Jason still didn’t believe that it could be this easy, “No repercussions?”

“Just the white streak in your hair”, Bruce said.

“Nothing? No Zombie-Jason running around screwing things up?”

“No”, Bruce’s voice was firm, “Everything was completely fine.”

“Is he lying?”, Jason looked at Oracle.

“He doesn’t show any signs”, she said, “But if he is as well-trained as he says, I wouldn’t be able to detect it.”

Steph wiped away her tears: “When are we getting to that Pit?”

“Stephanie”, Oracle warned her.

“What?”, Steph said, “We all want him back. We just have to take a leap of faith.”

“We can save Damian, too”, Bruce said, “He should be at the League’s headquarters.”

“Was I happy after I came back?”, Jason asked.

“It took some time. You had some trauma to work through. But I think you were when I last saw you”, Bruce said, “You loved your family even if you showed it in your own way.”

Jason scrutinized Bruce’s face. But he saw no lie in it. So, he took a deep breath. Another moment to reconcile the craziness of this whole situation.

Then, he said: “Fine. I can’t believe that I’m saying this. But I’m trusting your story, old man. Let’s chuck Dick into that Pit and save the Demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dick just can't catch a break. Even after his death. But the cat is out of the bag.  
> And Bruce definitely didn't lie about the whole Lazarus Pit-side effects...

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year btw! We endured 2020. Let's hope 2021 is better. I'm always happy for feedback and comments. :)
> 
> I plan to update weekly on Sundays.


End file.
